


A Child of His Choosing

by Icemaidenstory



Series: The Daughters of Odin [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anima/Senan, Arranged Marriages are Common, Asgard, F/M, Family, Gen, Goddesses, Gods, Inter-Realm Relations, Loki is the god of anything he feels like, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mythology - Norse - Freeform, Odin/Loki (in the past), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Politics, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Yggdrasil is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 77
Words: 265,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icemaidenstory/pseuds/Icemaidenstory
Summary: Before Thor and Loki were born, events took place that would have a direct effect on their lives. This story is set almost 5000 years before the events of the first Thor movie, and details the real story behind Odin’s secretive past.Asgard is a realm finally at peace. But adjusting to the end of 50 years of war is proving difficult. King Bor – a man more comfortable on the battlefield than in his office – must decide what is right for the throne even though his choices might not be right for his four granddaughters, Hela – Bor’s eldest grandchild and one day heir apparent – is struggling to adjust to a life of peace, while Odin’s sworn blood brother Loki – casual menace and professional nuisance – has an agenda of his own.Through all this Odin struggles to balance being a father to four very unique daughters with his duties of being the Crown Prince, and meanwhile in Svartalfheim, King Malekith of the Dark Elves is tired of the disrespect from the other realm’s kings, and is planning to take advantage of the upcoming Convergence to destroy the nine realms and every creature in it.
Series: The Daughters of Odin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670887
Comments: 952
Kudos: 66





	1. A War to be Won

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note before we start, and it's in regards to the passage of time.
> 
> As much as possible I am going to try and fit things into existing canon, but the canon contradicts itself a fair bit across the Thor movies (e.g. Thor and Loki were '8' when Loki pulled his snake prank, but Thor is '1500' years old when talking to Rocket in Infinity War while Loki's birth year in Thor 1 puts him at about 1070 years old).
> 
> My personal headcanon is that Allspeak is translating not just what you say but what you mean, so '1500' of whatever Rocket identifies as years is the same as 1070 years on Earth (give or take). Odin killing Surtur 'half a million years ago' is half a million years on Muspelheim, but would translate differently if Thor was on Asgard and differently again if he was talking to someone from Earth.
> 
> So in this story, no matter what, when someone talks about something happening '10 years ago', they mean 10 years on Earth. This is because you, the reader, are from Earth (I assume), and Allspeak is translating what they are actually saying into something that you will easily understand. All year references are Earth ones.
> 
> The only other thing is age. When the story tells you someone **looks** 'about 15' then it's about 15 years worth of development if they were human, again, because of Allspeak. They may actually be 750 years old, but I don't want to have to stick up a developmental comparison chart every time I introduce someone. Allspeak shall translate that as well.
> 
> Thank you, we may now begin.

**Twenty five years before the Convergence**

Asgard was at war, and it had been at war for almost fifty years. This did not affect the majority of the populous, at least, not these days, because Asgard was winning, and winning a war came with spoils and honour and magnificent stories to tell around the fire at the taverns and the dinner table.

The _cause_ of the war had started three hundred years earlier, when the Titan race had taken to the stars determined to conquer their neighbours. They had multiplied in number beyond what their planet could sustain, and so sought out other worlds to use up instead.

It had not taken them long to realise that it was far easier to take over a planet with a native population and put them to work than it was to do the work themselves, and so began two hundred and fifty years of conquering, enslaving, and resource stealing.

On every new world they set up a ruling class, ‘brave’ explorers willing to travel and live in far-flung places surrounded by strange aliens. Of course this ruling class would have children, and those children would have children of their own, and so the population of the Titan race continued upwards, until the day they set their sights, and their ships, on a rather pretty jewel of a planet; blue and green and gold and red, depending on where you stood, and attempted, once again, to begin conquering the people living there.

The planet was called Midgard, and it was not going down without a fight.

For Midgard was a realm of magic; pure and powerful, and the mortals who wielded it were terrifying to behold. Never before had the Titan army had their ships pulled apart by forces they could not see. Never before had they found the energy of their weapons snatched from the air and flung back at them. Never had they faced such strangeness.

The Titan army was not one to give up easily. They threw more and more soldiers at the mortal spell-casters, slowly killing one, then another; slowly inching their way to victory.

But Midgard was not alone. For it was a one realm among nine. The branches of Yggdrasil bind together worlds so different from one another and yet still the same. Yggdrasil the world tree, not a myth as some would say, not an ancient legend to explain such phenomenon as the Bifrost. No. Yggdrasil was real. Yggdrasil was alive. The nine realms lie nestled in its great, cosmic, branches, and the inhabitants are its immune system.

From the skies above came the Asgardians, warriors of huge strength wielding weapons of raw power forged by the Dwarves of Nidavellir. But not all of them needed a weapon in their hands, the berserkers would charge through anything, and anyone, tearing them apart with nothing but their bare hands. 

By their side rode the Vanir, slender in shape but no less deadly as they wielded their blades from atop their mounts, cutting down the Titans as they flew past on their winged war-horses.

From the mists came the Jotnir, cold as ice and ranging in size from tall as a Titan to as tall as their transport ships.

From the depths crept the fiery inhabitants of Muspelheim, their very touch burning skin and melting flesh. 

From the shadows came the dark elves, stabbing and snatching prizes with a laugh that caused terror and panic.

From the blinding light of the sun’s rays came the light elves, and weapons misfired and computers glitched whenever the merry chuckles of the mischief-makers were heard.

But that was not the worst horror. Yggdrasil does not forget its children, it does not let them lie alone in darkness when they are done with life. From the deepest, darkest, places of Niflheim the ghosts of Yggdrasil rose. Calling out in eerie voices and creating nightmares in the mind. There was no rest for the Titans, no place to hide.

And so they fell back. And fell back further. And then further again. One by one the worlds they had taken were freed by the advancing Asgardian army and their allies. One by one the Titan settlers had to flee their new homes and head back to the one place that was truly theirs.

“Can it hold them?” a voice asked, sharp and curious.

The teacher, Thyra, paused in her telling. “What?” she asked.

“The Titan home world, can it hold them?” the voice asked again. It belonged to a girl of ten years old. She had a permanently sharp look on her face and a hardness to her eyes that made everyone who saw it feel unsettled.

Her name was Nal and she was, officially, Odin’s third daughter. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Thyra said. “After what they did to Midgard they do not deserve compassion.”

“I’m not being compassionate; I’m being practical. If they didn’t have enough resources before then how are they going to feed everyone now?” Nal asked, pinching her mouth closed after she spoke as though daring her teacher to explain.

Thyra shrugged, unconcerned. “That is for them to work out for themselves.”

“What about mother?” asked a new voice, bright and clear. Despite being the same age, _exactly_ the same age as the other girl, this one sounded so much younger. 

Thyra felt it was the lack of cynicism.

Anima, officially Odin’s fourth, and youngest child, was always looking for stories about her mother. 

“Ah yes, your mother,” she said, gratefully launching onto the new topic that she knew wouldn’t be denied. “Your mother was a powerful spell-caster, the most powerful in Midgard, if those who saw her were to be believed. She was an expert at catching energy and channelling it back into the Titan ships.  
She met your father during a battle. He was wounded while saving the life of his blood-brother, and she used magic to save him. Afterwards they shared a drink at the Asgardian tent and well, only they know what was said or how they fell in love.  
They were married on the battlefield, and fought beside one another for a year and a day, before she told your father that she was with child.”

“Children,” Nal corrected.

“Yes.” Thyra said rather flatly. “Children. Your mother came back here to stay. She was a delight to have in the palace, despite being mortal, and she was determined to make Asgard her new home.”

“But she died,” Nal said. 

“Yes,” Thyra confirmed wearily. “She died. Mortals often do. But in the case of your mother it was early, even for a mortal. A secret battalion of Titan warriors snuck around the Asgardian lines and unleashed a weapon of terrifying power into the heart of our realm. It was enough to destroy the entire realm, to break it apart into atoms. It should have killed us all.”

Anima was almost climbing out of her seat, her eyes were wide with excitement. “But it didn’t,” she said. “It didn’t because of Mother.”

Thyra noticed that, despite herself, Nal was also leaning forwards, perhaps unconsciously.

“Yes. It is known that spell-casters, particularly mortal spell-casters, can reach beyond their limits and channel power far greater than they should, but at the cost of their very life. They burn themselves up. That is what most of them did to protect Midgard from the Titans, that is how the Titans almost turned the tide, by forcing them to sacrifice themselves one after another. Your mother caught the energy of the weapon and forced it down the branches of Yggdrasil itself. She caused life to burst forth in all the known realms, and in all the hidden ones. They say all the dormant volcanoes on Muspelheim blew their tops and spurted forth lava again for the first time in a billion years, and that the active ones simply exploded. They say the warriors of Valhalla felt their forgotten hearts beat. They say that Yggdrasil itself bloomed for the first time in its long history. But when the power faded, your mother was gone. All that was left was ash swirling around and settling on the three of you. Your mother saved Asgard. She will always be honoured here.”

Thyra looked at each of the girls in turn. Three identical, and yet very different sets of eyes looked back at her.

They had the same face, she had realised not long after taking up her post as their teacher. They were the same height and aged at the same rate. Their eye shape, nose shape, mouths, their hands and bodies were all identical. But no one could ever mistake one for another, no, not with these three.

There _had_ been one child, according to Estrid, the head healer of the palace. Just one. The power that had brought life across Yggdrasil had worked on the child as well.

Anima was mortal, like her mother. She had thick, brown, wavy hair and blue eyes. Her skin was brown like her mother’s had been and her face was clear of any markings. Her cheerful nature made her look friendly and likable.

Nal was Jotun, like Odin’s mother. Her skin was a stunning light blue, and her face and body were lined with natural markings. Her hair was black and straight and her eyes were red from end to end. She had, if you were brave enough to get close, a small spattering of freckles across her nose. Her mother had had freckles, and it appeared to be the only thing of hers that Nal had inherited.

The last child was the ‘oldest’ of the three, or at least she had been declared as such by King Bor, who did not like to complicate things like the order of succession and so had chosen their official birth order within minutes of being informed as to how they came to be.

Daianya was Aesir. Not Asgardian, like most of the population, but _pure_ Aesir. The Asgardian race had interbred with Vanir, Mortals, Jotun and a great number of others over the millennia, and so to differentiate between those with mixed blood and those whose ancestry remained fully from Asgard two descriptions were used. There was no stigma associated with being one or the other, only slightly different expectations. Aesir were more likely to be gods, more likely to go berserk on the battlefield, more likely to be exactly what was expected of someone from Asgard. 

Daianya certainly fit those expectations. She had the wild, red hair, and coppery, almost ethereal skin that Aesir were known for. Her irises were burnt orange, and her face was often serious. She was physically stronger than her sisters, despite having the same build, and, to the best of Thyra’s knowledge, she had never even gotten a bruise from her childhood misadventures. Anima, by contrast, had walked around with more or less constant small bruising on one limb or another from the age of one to three years. 

Daianya rarely spoke during her lessons, but Thyra knew she had taken it all in regardless. She always did.

Thyra smiled at her and tried not to feel intimidated. “Do you have any questions?” she asked.

Nal opened her mouth to speak but Thyra cut her off. “Maybe from one of the other two?” she suggested.

Nal pinched her mouth closed again and glared at her teacher before turning to stare at Daianya. Daianya didn’t say anything.

“No?” Thyra said. “Well, it’s almost time for the end of your lessons anyway. How about you go early today?”

“Yay!” Anima yelled and almost flew out of her chair as she left the room. 

Nal rose silently, still staring her teacher down as she closed her workbook. Thyra ignored the look. Nal was too short and young to be intimidating, and besides, no one was scared of Jotun, they were slow and stupid. No doubt Nal would end up that way too one day.

Daianya gave Thyra a tight smile and a nod as she walked out of the classroom. She had, in Thyra’s opinion, the most regal manner of the three, and one that would serve her well in whatever future royal court she found herself.

****

Daianya and Nal walked together down the corridors and to the nearest garden, catching up with Anima who was doing cartwheels across the grass.

“I hate her,” Nal said.

“I know,” Daianya said.

“She doesn’t respect me.”

“I know.”

“I want to learn and she stops me.”

“She does.”

“You didn’t ask my questions for me,” Nal said accusingly.

Daianya shrugged. “You are perfectly capable of asking them yourself.”

“Of course I am, but _she’s_ not perfectly capable of answering them. Next time, will you please ask?” Nal said.

Daianya sighed gently. “Okay, I’ll ask,” she agreed.

Nal nodded, pleased. “I am to go Grandmother’s rooms in an hour to hear more of her stories,” she said. “She wants us all to go.”

“I can’t,” Daianya said, slouching in sudden disappointment. “I’m expected at the healer’s wing. They want me to work on my medicine training.”

Nal scowled instantly. “Why do they keep making you do that, it’s not as though you’ve shown any special aptitude,” she said. 

“That’s because they think she’s a god,” said a voice from behind them. “Unlike you other two, the seers say she is a god and that it has something to do with people getting well. They all think she’ll be a goddess of healing.” 

The voice had a sneer to it, which matched the look on the owner’s face, for it belonged to their older sister, Hela. Tall and thin, with a way of moving that put people in mind of a snake; Hela was beautiful, but in a terrifying way that froze warriors to centre of their souls. Her black hair seemed to cling around her shoulders, and she had a way of drawing everyone’s eye, but you would have to be mad to approach her. She lived to make others die. She glorified in the battle, in the blood and the screams and the death.

“Oh,” Nal said. “You’re back.”

“Indeed. Us real gods have returned from glorious battle,” Hela said in a bored tone.

“I could be a god if I wanted to be,” Nal said. “Grandfather sometimes calls me the Goddess of Snow, and Anima has powerful magic –”

“Oh _ice shaping_ , you mean the same power every Jotun is born with? And magic? From a Mortal? _What_ a surprise. Face it, Grandfather only says that because he wants people to think he has powerful grandchildren. It’s just propaganda; Mortals and Jotuns can’t be gods,” Hela said scornfully. 

Anima came running up, bouncing to a halt as her feet skidded on the grass. “If you’re here, does that mean Father is back too? And Grandfather? And Uncle Loki?”

Hela rolled her eyes. “Of course. The Titans have broken in the Argos system. They are in full retreat. Grandfather has ordered the blockading of the Titan system as soon as the last of them are back on their home-world. The war is effectively over.”

“You sound disappointed,” Daianya said as Anima raced off into the palace.

Hela sneered. “If it were up to me I’d have killed them all.”

“Won’t they all die if they can’t leave their home-world?” Nal asked.

“Probably,” Hela said, unconcerned.

_Father is in his chambers!_

Anima’s thought entered their heads clearly. She was physically inside the palace, but that made no difference; the girls could hear each other anywhere. They always had done, their earliest memories were a confusing mixture of experiences, shared by their thoughts, although not always by their bodies.

It wasn’t a secret that they were meant to be one child, nor was it a secret to those who knew them well that they, in some strange way, were still connected like one on the inside. They didn’t normally _feel_ like one child, but they could think like one, and sometimes they felt merged enough to be a single unit. But Daianya had said that they had three distinct souls, and she had said so in such a confident voice that the other two had never questioned it.

Sometimes Nal had wondered about who that single child would have been had things not gone as they had, but there was no one who knew the answer, not even her father, Crown Prince Odin, and he seemed to know almost everything.

“Let me hear the stories,” Daianya asked, turning to Nal. “I want to know what Grandmother says, even if I can’t be there.”

“Okay,” Nal agreed. 

Hela rolled her eyes. “Grandmother is such a bore. She tried to tell me her stories but they were all stupid.”

Nal just stared at her in silence.

Daianya shrugged awkwardly. “We like them,” she said. “Well, we should go and greet Father. We haven’t seen him in months.”

She and Nal left, Nal turning to stare back at Hela until they entered the palace and the door closed behind them, blocking her view.

“I hate her,” Nal said.

“I know,” Daianya said.

They walked together to the royal wing of the palace and to their father’s door. Anima was already inside, chattering madly about everything that had happened to her in the months since Odin had left on the most recent engagement. She had just about filled him in on the first day, and he was listening intently while sitting in his favourite chair and smiling indulgently.

“Father,” Daianya greeted as they entered the room. “How have you been?”

“What happened to your eye?” Nal asked bluntly.

Odin smiled and held out an arm to his daughters. “I have been well. The battle was long but we were victorious. My eye is fine, but I have to keep it covered for a little while until the flesh around it heals. Have you been well?”

“Yes Father,” Daianya and Nal said together. 

“We just came from our lessons,” Nal said. “Thyra wouldn’t tell me how the Titans are expected to survive if they all move back to their home-world.”

Odin sighed. “Our king has made his decision. They will have to find a solution on their own.”

“People shouldn’t be punished for the decisions of their leaders,” Nal said.

Odin gave her a gentle smile. “Maybe you’re right, but that is not the way of the galaxy. It’s often cruel; all we can do is take care of one another.”

Nal frowned, unsatisfied.

“I’m going to go and talk to Grandmother,” she said, turning away and marching out of the room.

Odin watched her go with a sigh. 

Anima shifted in her seat. “Do you want to hear about us visiting the forest?” she asked brightly.

Odin shifted his attention back to his youngest daughter. “Yes I do, sweetheart, I want to hear all about it,” he said.

Daianya took a seat beside him and reached up to hold his hand. They got precious little time with their father because of how often he was away fighting. She was hopeful that, now the war was effectively over, he would have more time for them.

“I’ve only got a little while until I go to the healer’s for lessons,” she said. “Let me tell it, Anima.”


	2. In the Calm and Quiet

Nal headed away from the royal wing and down into the lower levels of the palace. The corridors were plainer and used primarily by servants as they scurried back and forth about their duties. But it was the only way to reach her grandmother’s chosen living quarters.

Bestla was an anomaly on Asgard, a foreign queen who agreed, as a part of a now ancient treaty, to come and marry a crown prince she had never laid eyes upon. The treaty had held, in its own way, and Asgard and Jotunheim had not gone to war since King Bor’s father had held the crown.

Her skin was a rich blue colour, her eyes were red from end to end, and she was entirely bald, like many of her race. She was also nine feet tall.

She smiled when she saw Nal peeping through the doorway and beckoned her closer.

“Come in, dear, I was just finishing a letter to my sister,” she said.

Nal made her way down the steps to the room below. It was cool in the lower levels, and the light had been set to be quite dim and blue in colour. Bestla preferred it that way as it reminded her of her home. Nal, by contrast, loved being out under the open sky, with the warm sun on her skin and flowers all around her. She wasn’t sure if that was normal for a Jotun, but it felt right to her.

“The other two can’t come,” Nal said. “Daianya has to go to more lessons and Anima is with Father.”

“Don’t you want to be with your father too? You haven’t seen him in a long time,” Bestla asked.

Nal shook her head. “He’s disappointing,” she said.

Bestla chuckled. “I did make rather a lot of mistakes with that one, but then I was asked to,” she said calmly.

Nal frowned at her in puzzlement, but Bestla waved away the unasked questions. “Later, dear, you are far too young to be confiding my troubles in. Did you see the king?”

Nal shook her head. “He wasn’t there,” she said.

“No doubt he will turn up at the feast hall, he does so love it there,” Bestla said. “Will you share a cup of sweet juice with me and hear my stories?”

Nal nodded and knelt down on the cushions at her feet. Bestla always asked her the same way, and always insisted upon sharing a drink or a meal while telling her stories. She said it was how it was done on Jotunheim, and that she wanted to share the experience, not just the stories, with anyone willing to listen.

“Shall I tell you the story of the giant Nótt? She had hair like yours and was very beautiful. She is an old giant, from a long time ago, and she had many sons who changed the way Jotunheim functioned. For the stories say that Jotunheim was always covered in darkness, and that it was an eternal night, but Nótt knew that it did not have to be that way, and so she sought out one who could help her create the day itself. She travelled far across the stars, and met many men, warriors, craftsmen, thinkers and tinkerers, seeking someone who possessed the qualities she needed to create the daylight on Jotunheim. Then one day she met a man named Delling, a kind man, and a powerful magic user, and it was with him that she birthed Dagr, her son of light. Dagr’s arrival lifted the darkness from Jotunheim, and forever locked it into a day and night cycle, such as is shared by Asgard, Vanaheim and Midgard. But the important thing is _how_ she found him. The important lessons are always in the journey itself, as I shall now recount.”

Nal sat and listened politely as Bestla launched into the story-proper. All of her stories had lessons in them. Lessons like ‘strength can be summoned, but also taken away again’and ‘a sacrifice for many may be forgotten, but that is not why you make sacrifices’ and ‘embrace your nature, for it is the only thing that is truly yours’.

Nal loved her grandmother’s stories. She could happily stay for hours kneeling on the cushions, surrounded by the pale blue light and the cool air. 

After about half an hour, a panicked feeling suddenly entered her body. It was Daianya, she was with a patient and she didn’t know what to do.

 _Calm down, you can do this._ Nal thought, trying to keep her mind on the story and not get caught up in whatever Daianya was dealing with.

The man wanted to know something about his soul?

 _That’s a weird thing to worry about._ Nal thought.

“How did she know he wasn’t right?” Nal asked, forcing her mind back to where she was. “You said she tested him, how?”

Bestla smiled. “A Jotun woman knows how to test a man, don’t you worry. When you are older I will explain it all to you.”

“Is it about sex?” Nal asked. “Did she have sex with him?”

Bestla’s smile widened.

“We learned about it in our biology lessons,” Nal said.

“And did they also teach you about Jotun biology?” Bestla asked.

“No,” Nal admitted. “But this is about sex, isn’t it?”

“It is about knowing who you are choosing,” Bestla said. “And I promise, when the time comes you will be glad you are Jotun, Asgardian choosings are so messing.”

“What do Jotun do?” Nal asked.

“When you are older, darling, I promise I will tell you. Now is not the time for that,” Bestla said.

Nal pouted, but Bestla was unmoved.

“It is not our way to tell of these things early,” she said, and returned to her story.

Nal made up her mind then and there to check the library for books on Jotun biology as soon as she had the chance.

She hated not knowing things.

There was a sudden sensation from deep inside of her, no, not her, from Daianya. Nal had never felt anything like it before and it knocked the breath clean out of her.

“Darling, are you alright?” Bestla asked in concern.

Nal gasped for air. “Daianya, she did… something, she did… something big.”

Bestla looked worried. “What did she do, dear?”

Nal sat back up on the cushions, she felt exhausted and she hadn’t even done anything.

“Something god-like,” she said.

****

Daianya walked reluctantly into the healer’s wing. She hated her lessons with the healers more than anything. She wasn’t a healer! She never felt any power when she was around sick people. Granted, she had no idea what having a god-like power was supposed to feel like, but she was certain she’d never felt it regardless, and she didn’t want to sit day after day with the healers and their assistants while they saw sick person after sick person.

She headed to the window in the preparation room and glanced down. The healer’s wing overlooked the training grounds. Today the young men from the commoner class were practising their axe work. Sometimes the yard was filled with the women who filled the rank of the Valkyrie, and sometimes from the much younger members of the noble classes learning to use their swords.

Daianya really wanted to learn how to use a sword.

“Your Grace, welcome, today we are going to be assisting the wounded soldiers back from the most recent engagement,” said one of the healers by the name of Inge. “So gather your work basket and follow me.”

Daianya left the window reluctantly and grabbed her basket. She knew the names of all the ointments, she knew how to stitch an open wound, she knew enough to be helpful, she just didn’t want to do it. Healing wasn’t her strong suit at all, despite what the seers said.

But she was an obedient child, at least when it wasn’t worth the fight not to be, and so she followed Inge through the doorway and to the first patient.

“Hello Arne, how are you today?” Inge asked a warrior lying prone in a bed. He looked pale and weak.

Daianya gave him an awkward smile from behind Inge. He looked over at her.

“You have a little assistant?” he asked.

“I do,” Inge confirmed. “She’s going to help change your dressings, go on, your Grace.”

Daianya stepped forward and started to undo the bandage around his arm. His eyes had grown wide. 

“Your Grace? You are a daughter of Odin?” he asked.

Daianya nodded. “Yes sir, I am.”

“Are you the one who can freeze men to death?” he asked, sounding nervous.

Daianya glanced up from her work, Inge was on the other side of the room, fussing about with potions. “What? No! And my sister can’t actually do that.” she answered.

“She can’t?”

“No.”

“Jotun warriors can,” Arne said.

“Maybe one day,” Daianya conceded, “but she wouldn’t do it anyway. She’s not like that.”

Arne sighed. He sounded almost disappointed.

“Are you alright?” Daianya asked.

“I think my soul is broken,” Arne whispered, staring at the ceiling.

Daianya stared at him. “Broken?” she whispered. “Why would it be broken?”

Arne looked terrified. His eyes were wide and fearful. “I’ve done things,” he hissed. “I killed people, I watched them die, I did that, I cut them down. I can’t sleep at night, the memories haunt me, the nightmares. I can’t make them stop. They visit me in the day, in the middle of other things. I can’t make them stop!”

Daianya sat frozen to her chair, she had forgotten the bandage in front of her. 

“Innocent people?” she asked.

Arne shook his head. “Soldiers,” he said.

“Then why does it bother you?” Daianya asked, puzzled. 

“I don’t know! I never thought it would be like this! I thought it would be glorious! No one else in my battalion is having trouble like this; they drink to their victories while I struggle not to cry at night. So I think: Is my soul broken? It feels broken. And if it’s broken, then it won’t survive the travel to Valhalla, or any of the other afterlives. A broken soul just rips apart once the body is dead.”

“It does?” Daianya whispered.

He was crying, openly crying and clutching at her hands. Daianya desperately wanted to turn and ask Inge for help, but the healer had vanished from the room.

 _Calm down, you can do this._ said a voice in her head.

It was Nal, always calm, always unflappable. 

Daianya took a deep breath and tried to keep calm.

“I’m sure it’s not so broken that you cannot make it to Valhalla,” she said. “I’m sure that it’s going to be alright, that _you_ will be alright. Maybe those rips and tears are large right now, but they will pull back together, and maybe there will be scars, maybe there will be bad memories that will not be forgotten, but you will have peace at night, and when you are occupied with something else. They won’t invade your thoughts, they won’t…um…they won’t hurt you anymore... they won’t...”

As she spoke, her eyes began to glow orange, and before her she could see, shimmering beneath Arne’s skin, a ghostly other form. It had the same face, and wore the same worried expression, but this version was battered. Large tears had been made across its belly and chest, smaller ones scarred its face. It wasn’t _broken_ , at least not irreparably, but it was damaged.

No wonder he couldn’t sleep at night, a soul so damaged could never be peaceful.

“You poor man,” Daianya whispered, her expression lost and vague as she looked him over. “You need help.”

Arne began to sob openly. His face crumpled and he curled up against himself. 

“I was supposed to be a warrior!” He sobbed. “I was supposed to earn glory for myself and my family!”

Daianya barely heard him. She could see the edges of the tears, the little strands fighting to pull together. She reached for them. She gasped as she felt a power she’d never felt before rise up through her. Yggdrasil, the World Tree. It answered her call in a great flood, travelling through her veins and filling them with power. She rode the wave of it as best she could, reaching out and grabbing the strands of soul and pulling them back together, mending the tears and cuts one at a time as they shone orange in her vision.

Arne stopped crying and gasped at the sudden flood of new sensation. It is very hard to describe how it feels to have you soul pulled back together, but the closest description would be like coming home, but not to your own home, complex places that they often are, no, it felt like coming to a home that _never_ caused hurt, and never had fights. A home where every person you had ever loved and loved you back was waiting to see you, a home where you had a place, where you belonged.

It felt, a little bit, like reaching heaven.

Daianya pulled back. The cuts and tears had been replaced with scars, shimmering across his soul, and Arne was staring at her in a kind of wonder.

“You… you look…” he stammered, even as the rush of power was fading from her head and body. “You look beautiful, your Grace, you look _beyond_.”

Daianya had no idea what he meant, and didn’t really care. She felt exhausted. “I… I… I pulled them together,” she said, fighting to keep her head from spinning. “The tears, the rips, you have scars now, but those memories, they should stop coming back in flashes when you don’t want them. You still need to deal with them though. You need to make your own peace with what you did, and how you reacted.”

Arne took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, your Grace, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Daianya barely acknowledged him. She was shaking from the effort she’d just made. Her head was swimming with thoughts and feelings. She’d called on Yggdrasil; she’d channelled its power.

She _was_ a god.

“Let me finish bandaging your arm,” she said, realising suddenly that it was still not dressed.

“I will take care of that, your Grace,” Inge said from behind her.

She was smiling, so were the three other healers behind her.

“Souls, your Grace, the Goddess of _Souls_ ,” one of them said with barely contained excitement.

“That explains why you were no good at healing,” another of them muttered, and was quickly shushed by her colleagues.

“Well done, your Grace,” Inge said. “You have finally called upon Yggdrasil and taken your god form. The King will be pleased,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to do it, it just happened,” Daianya said.

“If I were a god myself then surely I’d be able to advise you on how normal that is,” Inge said, “but I am just a healer, and now that we know you are not a _medical_ goddess, I’m sure you will be placed with someone who can teach you more about souls and how they work.”

“No more healing lessons?” Daianya asked.

“Not my kind,” Inge confirmed. 

Daianya took a deep breath and tried to look calm and accepting, rather than delighted. She had a lot to think about.

****

Anima was halfway through telling her father about how well she was doing at her lessons and learning to ride her pony, and had just started hinting at a possible reward in the form of a puppy when King Bor entered the room.

“There you are, I need to talk to you,” he said, addressing Odin.

Anima tried to make herself seem smaller by sheer force of will. It didn’t work.

“Go on, girl, I need to speak with your father,” Bor said.

“I’ll see you later, Anima,” Odin assured her with a smile.

Anima slid from her chair and made her way to the door.

“I want to talk about Asgard’s defences,” Bor said, having already dismissed her from his thoughts.

Anima left the room and shut the door behind her. The King was a very imposing man who existed in her life as someone distant and unknowable. It was hard to believe that he was her grandfather.

He certainly seemed to have a tough time thinking so, as he never acknowledged her as his granddaughter, only as his son’s daughter. He _had_ referred to her as the goddess of magic, but Hela was adamant that it was for propaganda purposes, as having a son with four goddess daughters was a good look for a king.

At least the cursory title was accurate in one sense. Anima slipped across to the next door over and whispered a little magic into the lock. It opened and she went inside, quickly crossing the room and climbing out of the window. With the courage of youth she climbed up onto the balcony railing and leaned over, carefully getting her hand, and then her weight onto the adjacent railing, before pulling herself across onto her father’s balcony. Then she crouched down by the window and used a little more magic to stop the waves of sound from inside being impeded by the walls.

“But it needs to be strong,” Bor was saying, “strong enough to hold back realm-ending firepower.”

“I don’t think such a thing exists,” Odin said. “If it did we would have heard of it by now.”

“My concern is that, with what happened, we will be challenged by anyone stupid enough to want to cause maximum damage. Asgard survived because of a fluke. Yrsa saved us, but she’s gone, she won’t be doing that again.”

Anima’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s name. She pressed harder against the wall.

“I know she’s gone,” Odin said with a tinge of sadness. “I still think about her all the time.”

“Why?” Bor asked. “She was mortal, she’d be gone by now anyway.”

“She’d be thirty three,” Odin said.

“Is that old for mortals?” Bor asked.

Anima heard her father sigh. “With Asgard’s medicine available to her? About a quarter of her life.”

“That’s still a very short life,” Bor said. “In a hundred years it won’t make a difference. In a hundred, hundred and fifty years, that girl of yours will be gone too.”

“I know,” Odin said. “She’s such a happy little thing.”

“Can you think of where to start looking for a builder?” Bor asked, clearly returning to the topic he cared more about.

“I’ll ask Loki if he knows of someone. Jotunheim has so many experts and craftsmen, if there’s someone with the kind of skill you’re looking for then he’ll know,” Odin said.

It was Bor’s turn to sigh. “I can’t stand that arrogant ass,” he said.

“He is my brother,” Odin said.

“Blood brother, not real brother, it hardly counts,” Bor said.

Anima became aware that she was being watched. Her eyes darted to the other side of the balcony where, crouched down below the other window, Loki of Utgard was quietly listening in on the same conversation she was. He was also watching her with laughter in his green eyes.

He held a finger up to his lips and she nodded in understanding.

He vanished from her sight, but not from her magic. She could see a shimmer in the air as he crept over to her side of the balcony, before becoming visible again at her side.

“Hello Puppy,” he said softly.

“Hello Uncle Loki,” she whispered in delight.

Loki was her favourite person in the whole of Asgard. He was always telling her jokes and playing pranks. He never seemed for a moment to be tired of her of any of her sisters. He even tried to be nice to Hela.

“How have you been while I’ve been away?” he asked. “I see Asgard has remained intact and peaceful, and I have to say, I’m disappointed.”

She smothered a giggle.

The conversation inside had shifted to battle tactics. Something to do with a blockade? Anima wasn’t sure what they were talking about but she was sure it must be important.

“Come on, Puppy,” Loki said in her ear. “I’ve heard all this before and it’s going to end the same way. Let’s go down to the kitchen and make trouble.”

He held out a hand and Anima grabbed it excitedly. He was going to do magic. She loved it when he did magic.

There was a brief feeling of movement and they were outside in the kitchen gardens.

“Now,” Loki said, eyes twinkling. “What _shall_ we do to the feast?”

Five minutes later they fled from the kitchen to the garden, laughing hard, partners in crime.

“Will it really explode?” Anima asked, bouncing up and down with excitement and anticipation.

Loki shrugged, “Of course, and if we’re lucky it’ll coat the King in cream.”

Anima squealed. “I hope I’m still up to see it, he always sends us away early,” she said.

Loki sprawled down onto the grass and closed his eyes. “I’ll be sure to tell you all about it after he’s done punishing me for it,” he said.

Anima grew serious. “Will he really punish you? I mean, properly punish you? Father sends me to my room when I’ve been naughty, where would the King send you?”

“The dungeon, probably,” Loki said, cracking open an eye. “But he’ll let me out just as quick; he needs me.”

“For the wall,” Anima said. “The one they were talking about.”

“Yes, for the wall. I believe that our marvellous King wants to install a defensive structure, the likes of which have never been seen before,” Loki said. “And he’ll want a Jotun to do it. Jotnir make the best builders, but they don’t come cheap, which is a shame because the King is one of the cheapest men I know.”

Anima sat down beside him and plucked at the grass. “He said it was because of my mother,” she said.

Loki opened his eyes properly and propped his head up on one hand.

“Your mother did something truly amazing,” he said. “There has never been a feat of magic quite like it. And _because_ of how amazing it was, there are people who will take great pride in destroying it, in making it meaningless.”

“Like the people who will want to attack us, to see if it can be done again,” Anima said.

“Like the King,” Loki answered. “A man who cannot stand the idea that anyone who isn’t Asgardian could be in any way stronger than his own people. He wants a wall, a _thing_ , to do something that your mother gave her life to achieve, thus cheapening her victory. The worst part is that if it can be done then it should be, Asgard has a lot of enemies, although we’d have a damn sight less of them if the King wasn’t such a gigantic arse.”

Anima stifled a giggle. “You can’t say that!” she exclaimed. “Not about the King!”

Loki gave another shrug. “And yet, amazingly, nothing has happened as a result. Now, how have you been getting on? Magic lessons going well?”

Anima looked down. “Teacher Randi told me about the life-force. She said that’s where mortal magic comes from and why they die so quickly.”

Loki gave her a long, extremely old fashioned look.

“Teacher Randi should stick to topics she knows something about,” he said at last. “She’s supposed to teach you how to cast spells, _not_ try to educate you on the finer points of mortal spiritu-physiology.”

“She said that big spells would burn up my life-force and then I’d die. She said that’s why mother died,” Anima said.

Loki groaned. “Why do they always leave it to me to fix the universe and everything in it?” he asked the sky.

“What do you need to fix?” Anima asked, puzzled as Loki sat up and looked at her with a serious expression.

“Listen, Puppy, it is true that mortals possess something that we call a life-force, and it’s true that, _in times of extreme circumstances_ such as _saving the whole of Asgard and everyone in it_ , a mortal can burn their own life-force to summon and use more power than they are naturally able to summon and that this will hasten, or even lead directly to, their death, _BUT_ that doesn’t happen with all the day-to-day magic. _Magic_ is not life-force, magic is its own thing that mortals happen to be very good at using, at least, before all the magic users died in the war they were very good at using it. So you learn all the spells there are to learn, because _you_ my little puppy friend, have more power in your fragile, little, mortal body than everyone else on Asgard combined. You do not need to fear that you’ll burn up, I promise.”

“What if someone attacks Asgard again before the wall is finished?” Anima asked. “Will I have to try and save it?”

“No. The bulk of the army and most of the gods are here now, so no one will be able to do what the Titans did before, we will stop them long before they get close enough to enact another attack like that.”

“I don’t want to die,” Anima said. “I want to live forever and ever and ever.”

Loki gave her a thoughtful look. “Try it,” he suggested dryly.

“How old are you, Uncle Loki?” Anima asked.

“As old as the wind,” Loki said, “provided it recently emerged from the King’s buttocks.”

Anima started laughing even as she screwed up her nose. “Ew!”

Loki chuckled, “Now tell me what I missed, puppy, tell me everything you’ve done since I last saw you.”

“Everything?”

“Absolutely everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering about what the characters looked like, the following is fairly close.
> 
> The girls at aged 10: https://hellogiggles.com/reviews-coverage/movies/little-girl-secret-garden-magical-adult/
> 
> Daianya's hair is basicaly Merida from Brave: https://gingerparrot.co.uk/2014/11/channelling-princess-merida-how-to-get-defined-curly-ginger-hair/
> 
> Her eyes are orange, similar to this: https://news.softpedia.com/news/Brown-Eyes-and-Their-Matching-Faces-Are-More-Trustworthy-320156.shtml#sgal_0
> 
> Anima's colouring is like this: https://www.sciencealert.com/entire-genome-of-woman-who-lived-5-700-years-ago-reconstructed-from-chewing-gum
> 
> Loki pretty much just looks like this guy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Sheehan#/media/File:Robert_Sheehan_MingFilmFest_2011.jpg
> 
> And Nal, well: https://crowkingwrites.tumblr.com/post/162289666328/show-me-loki-x-reader


	3. A Feast for Gods and War

The feast that night was one that would become legend among the people of Asgard. The returning warriors drank and ate like they had never seen food before in their lives. They sang songs of heroic victories and toasted their king over and over again.

King Bor was in fine form, guzzling his mead and following it with wine. He laughed uproariously when a fight broke out over a leg of lamb, and sat in his chair with a pretty maid on his knee.

His wife sat beside him silently. They had long since run out of things to say to one another, and her giant, blue presence was a constant reminder that they had both married for duty rather than love.

Hela was in good humour, at least, for her, and showed it by downing her own drinks quickly and often. She was even smiling, albeit only when someone would have an accident and nearly die. Being around death was almost like an addiction for her, and too long surrounded by robust and healthy people made her irritable and violent.

Odin smiled and joined in every toast, although he was more sedate than his father, and actually made a little conversation with his mother now and again.

Loki was entertaining everyone with stories of embarrassment and foolishness, causing a lot of laughter but an equal number of enemies as he ridiculed and mocked his way through the evening. He was telling a group of men a particularly fine story involving the king when Bor called out to him.

“I think you had better tell a different tale, Trickster.”

Bor rarely used Loki’s actual name. 

Loki grinned and gave him a wave. “But I like this one,” he said.

Bor frowned. “Tell a different tale, one in which you are the one doing something foolish,” he commanded.

Loki turned quickly back to his audience. “Oh, one time, I did something monumentally foolish, you see, I started to tell this tale about our king in which _he_ was a fool, for you see, in this tale I was telling, he insisted on going-”

“Loki, please tell another tale,” Odin interjected. “It’s only polite not to insult the king at whose table you are eating.”

Loki made an exaggerated pout. “Oh all right, brother,” he said.

“Blood brother,” Bor corrected. “You are no son of mine.”

Loki gave him another wave and started telling a different tale.

Anima sighed in disappointment. She was hiding under the table nearest to Loki so as to hear the stories, and she’d been rather looking forward to finding out what her grandfather had done that was so foolish.

Nal was still at the high table, quietly observing all the people.

“There’s dancing,” Bestla said to her. “You should join in.”

Nal regarded the dancers. “No one dances with me, they’re afraid they’ll get frostbite.”

“All those warriors and not one of them is brave enough to hold your hand?” Bestla mused. “What cowards they are.”

Bor grunted in annoyance and turned to her. “These _warriors_ are the finest in the galaxy,” he said. “They have conquered the Titans themselves. They are the greatest men to have ever lived and fought on the battlefield!”

“And yet not one of them will take your granddaughter dancing,” Bestla said calmly. 

Bor grunted and turned away. “Hymir! Tell your boy Tyr to come and dance with Nal.”

Hymir, one of Bor’s Generals and a great warrior in his own right, immediately turned to the youth beside him. Tyr had already heard the request and was rising, despite the jeers and mockery of his peers.

He approached Nal and held out his hand. “Will you dance with me, your Grace?” he asked.

Nal stood graciously and took his hand, which did not freeze even a little, and gave him a regal smile. “Thank you, Tyr, I would love to,” she said.

Tyr looked about fifteen, and probably hated the idea of dancing with a ten year old, especially a Jotun one at that, but no sign of reluctance showed on his face as he escorted her to where the other dancers were whirling about.

_He’s a clever one,_ Daianya thought to her sisters. _He’s already courting the King’s favour._

_Grandfather is so embarrassing sometimes,_ Nal thought back. _Although I do love to dance._

Her enjoyment was short lived, for it was only twenty minutes later that King Bor rose and held up Gungnir, the golden spear of kingship on Asgard.

The room fell silent.

“My friends, warriors, heroes all, tonight we celebrate the fall of the Titan empire! Tonight we celebrate our great victories, and we celebrate the fallen who have gone before us to Valhalla!   
But there is something else we need to celebrate! For just today, my granddaughter, Daianya, Goddess of Souls, called down the power of Yggdrasil. I always knew she was one of the gods, and now we have confirmation! I declare therefore, that the remainder of tonight’s feast be that of her God-Feast! Stand up Daianya, stand and let our people see their new god!”

Daianya rose nervously and tried to look like a princess. Her hair had been fighting its way out of her clips and ties since they had been put in hours ago, and now it stuck out at all angles. Her dress had a tiny stain where someone had dropped a piece of gravy-covered boar a few hours earlier and it had landed in her lap, and she was ten years old and tired.

The crowd roared its approval anyway. They were so drunk at that point they would have cheered just about anything.

On the other side of the hall, Hela raised a reluctant glass and took a swallow. “It seems there are two of us now,” she conceded reluctantly.

“Oh come now, Hela, the other two won’t be far behind her, you might as well get used to the idea,” Loki said from behind her. 

She turned and gave him a sneer. “Mortals cannot be gods, whatever Grandfather may say, and Jotun? How can a giant be a god?”

Loki sighed and took a sip of his wine. “ _I’m_ a god, and I’m Jotun,” he said.

“You are from Jotunheim, but you are not Jotun,” Hela said. “You aren’t even blue.”

“I knew something was missing,” Loki said without taking his eyes off the high table.

“What are you the god of, anyway?” Hela asked. “You call yourself one but have you ever even had a God-Feast?”

“Oh, don’t you know? I’m the God of Fire, a good god to have to be born in the heart of Jotunheim,” Loki said, glancing at her and giving her a smile. 

Hela rolled her eyes. “I didn’t see you burn anyone on the battlefield. You used magic, and a good deal of it, but you aren’t a _real_ god.”

Loki shrugged carelessly. “Your opinion of my god status does not change what I am. Have a good evening, Hela, enjoy your wine.”

He pushed off from the wall and disappeared into the crowd.

****

Anima and Nal were escorted out the feast shortly after Bor’s announcement. They were still children and, as such, were sent to bed at a reasonable(ish) hour. Daianya desperately wanted to join them but had to stay all night; leaving your own God-Feast was insulting to the people who had come to help you celebrate. She sat at the high table by her grandmother instead and tried to stay awake.

Anima fell asleep almost immediately. Nal was too disappointed to sleep, she had barely done any dancing and she was far less tired than her sisters. In fact she frequently slept half the amount they did with no ill effect. But no, she was sent to her room to bed like a silly child.

The top of one of the tall towers had been divided into three bedroom suites of equal size, each leading out onto a landing which connected via stairs to the rest of the palace. Each girl had decorated her suite according to her tastes, and what had resulted were three distinctly different designs. Whereas Daianya had chosen warm reds and dark wood, and Anima had decided on embedding a pattern in the wall above her bed with seashells and ocean scenes, Nal had chosen to make herself a garden.

She sat on a bed with a wooden frame. Behind her, the window frame above her bedhead and the arched ceiling of her rounded room were made of the same brown wood. Her bedspread was embroidered with flowers, and the curtains that framed the window looked like intertwined vines. Potted plants were everywhere, on the window sill, on shelves, in the corners of the room. Each had been carefully chosen by Nal herself to thrive in the setting in which it had been placed. Along the side of her bed flowers had been carved into the wood. The carvings ran the spectrum from extremely poorly done all the way to fair. That was because Nal had done them all herself, and her skill with the carving knives was slowly increasing with practice.

She pushed the curtains aside and sat at the window ledge, in the one place not yet covered by plants, and looked out over the lights of Asgard. It was a beautiful realm, the Realm Eternal, as the scholars called it, and it was _home_. There were many who questioned whether she fit in such a place, and if they were only referring to the people she’d question that herself, but the land? The realm itself? It called to her. There was no other way to describe it. She belonged here.

Nal sat and watched the lights of the city below her slowly go out one by one as the people went to bed. Then, just as Daianya was being carried from the feast hall, having fallen asleep in her chair, and King Bor was having cream wiped off his tunic from an inexplicably exploding cake, Nal climbed down to her bed and finally shut her eyes.

One day she would have a God-Feast. She was sure that it wasn’t just a cursory title Grandfather used to make himself look more powerful. Father sometimes called her a goddess too. They couldn’t both be wrong. One day she would call the power of Yggdrasil to her, and then they would all see that she belonged in Asgard with all the other gods.

And at _her_ god-feast, she would stay up and dance all night.

****

“One down, two to go,” Loki said, taking a sip from his wine glass.

He and Odin were sitting on the balcony of Odin’s room, winding down the evening in comfortable companionship.

Odin took a sip from his own glass and gave his old friend a small smile. “You don’t really think the other two are gods, do you?” he asked.

Loki nodded. “The seers don’t see everything,” he said, “and I have my own ways of knowing things. Mark my words, all your children are gods, Brother, it’s just a matter of time before we find out what they can do.”

Odin shook his head. “Jotun have never been gods,” he said, “and I’ve never heard of a mortal god either.”

“ _I’m_ Jotun, or have you forgotten?” Loki said. “Sometimes it seems everyone here forgets, other than the king who hates to be reminded, and as the God of Secrets, I’m telling you that their powers may still be hidden, but they are most definitely there.”

Odin smiled, but it was a smile of indulgence, not belief.

“Did you know she’d be the Goddess of Souls?” he asked. 

Loki shook his head. “No, but then neither did the seers. They kept saying it was something to do with healing.”

“She healed a man’s soul,” Odin said quietly. “I had no idea that they could even be broken.”

“Me either, but now we know. Every day there’s something new to learn,” Loki said. “And, you know, now that I think about it the signs were all there. She’s almost impossible to sneak up on; it’s always been as though she could sense people coming no matter how well they were hidden. She must have subconsciously been detecting their souls, I mean, who bothers to try and hide something like that?”

“She’s very astute as well,” Odin said. 

“A good judge of character,” Loki agreed. “Remember the time that charlatan came to the palace and convinced everyone he was some kind of traveling noble from his home world? Got away with half your father’s treasure in the end. She was only two but would she go near him? No. Ran away and cried whenever he tried to make friends with her. And he fooled _everyone_ , he even fooled me and I’m the God of Charlatans.”

“I thought you were the God of Secrets?” Odin said, amused.

Loki shrugged. “I’m the God of Anything Anyone Doesn’t Want,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

Odin had known Loki a long time and had long since given up on establishing exactly what his friend was or where his power truly came from. Loki had shown up one day, claiming to be a God from Jotunheim, before charming half the court into bed with him and the other half out of their gold and other valuables. He could be an absolute ass, but he was a demon of a fighter in the midst of battle, and his power, wherever it came from, was underestimated at his enemy’s peril.

He had saved Odin’s life, and that of his first wife, Hela’s mother, and nearly died doing so. In fact Odin had been convinced that Loki had indeed been killed until he staggered, bleeding and broken, back to the palace, still holding the knife he’d used to take down that mountain troll.

Odin had declared him a blood brother for his sacrifice, much to Bor’s horror. That had been over a thousand years ago now.

“It’s good that she’s a god,” Odin said. “But Father is disappointed that it’s not proper healing. I think he wanted someone who could fix up warriors in the midst of battle. A soul-healer isn’t going to be of much help there.”

“Our beloved king always wants more than he has without ever once stopping to really look at what he’s got,” Loki said. “He’s got a powerful warrior in Hela, a great fighter and strategist in you, and three other granddaughters, each with their own unique skills. They may never impress him, but one day they might just surprise him.”

Odin finished his wine. “He likes to call them gods; the common people don’t really see a difference between magic and a god anyway.”

“But he’s right, Brother, I promise. He doesn’t know that of course, he thinks he’s just making the royal family look stronger than they are, but even Fenrir occasionally eats the right person, if only by accident. One day you will see,” Loki said, finishing his own drink and standing up. “Now, _I’m_ going to bed, where I plan to sleep until Ragnarok.”

“You and me both,” Odin said, fighting a yawn. “See you at the stable tomorrow morning? I’m going out to see the city after being away for so long.”

“I’m not entirely certain that you understand what Ragnarok means,” Loki said. “But okay, see you after breakfast.”

And the God of Whatever he Felt Like Claiming This Time turned away and headed back through Odin’s rooms and out the door.

Odin pondered their conversation for a moment, before shaking his head as though to try and clear the thoughts away. Regardless of what Loki might say, only Aesir and Asgardians had ever been gods. Other beings could be powerful, but channelling Yggdrasil was not something just anyone could do.


	4. Much to Learn

Anima was woken by the knock on her door. She groaned loudly and buried her head further underneath the covers.

“Breakfast, your Grace,” said Payria, the girls’ maid and general servant, setting the tray down on her table.

“Thank you,” Anima mumbled and shut her eyes again.

“There’s a letter for you as well, your Grace,” Payria said, “from Loki of Utgard.”

Anima sat up immediately. “Where is it?” she asked.

“On the table, your Grace,” Payria said, giving her a quick bow and departing.

Anima scrambled out of bed and tore open the letter.

##### Puppy, Your father and I are taking a ride through the city this morning and will be at the stables just after breakfast. If you would like to join us then please be down there and ready to go. Loki, God of Horses 

Anima gave a squeak of excitement and grabbed a piece of toast. She stuffed it in her mouth while running to her bathroom to wash.

****

Nal was already awake when Payria knocked on her door. She opened it herself to let the servant in. Payria gave her a quick bow and placed the tray on her table without another word. 

“Thank you,” Nal said.

“Yes your Grace,” Payria mumbled and vanished quickly, shutting the door behind her with a thunk.

Nal scowled at the closed door.

“I hate you too,” she said, before turning to lift the top off the tray.

With a slight shake of her head to dismiss today’s unfair treatment, Nal sat down and placed her napkin over her lap and poured herself some juice.

Today was going to be one of research. Clearly Grandmother was hiding something, and Nal was determined to discover what it was. She was _not_ too young to know about sex. As far as Nal was concerned, she was not too young to know about anything. Everyone else was clearly too old to remember what it was like to be ten years old.

She cut into her bacon and began eating. From somewhere through the wall she could hear the faint thumps and crashes that indicated that Anima was awake. 

_Do you want to join me?_ She asked in their heads.

 _I’m going riding with Father and Uncle Loki._ Came the reply. _I’ll see you later._

Nal nodded to herself. _Daianya?_

_I’m awake, Payria’s just delivered breakfast. I’ll be over as soon as I read this note._

_What note?_ Anima asked.

There was silence for a moment.

_My new found powers are to be encouraged. Today I am to go to the hospital in the city and speak with the mind-healers, some witches are going to meet me there as well. Apparently they are going to figure out how to teach me things._

_Have fun!_ Anima thought.

Nal smiled. Anima thought almost everything she ever did was fun in some way. It must be nice to be so cheerful all the time.

Daianya arrived, carrying her tray.

“I have to leave just after breakfast,” she said. “Do you want to come with me?” she added hopefully.

Nal shook her head. “I have some study of my own to do,” she said. “And then I shall return to Grandmother and make her tell me the rest.”

“The rest of what?”

“The rest of everything; I hate not knowing things,” Nal said.

****

Anima was at the stables early, but she still didn’t beat Loki, who was lounging against one of the wooden beams like it was the most comfortable thing he’d ever leaned on.

“Morning Puppy,” he said, seeing her. “Your skirt is tucked into your belt at the side there.”

Anima looked down. “Oh, whoops,” she said, tugging it free. “I got dressed in a hurry.”

“Clearly,” Loki said with a smile, as he reached over and smoothed down her hair. “Forgot to brush?”

Anima pulled a face. “Maybe,” she said.

Her dress had been grabbed from her cupboard without looking; it was an older one made from green wool, and had several areas of careful repair from where she’d torn it in the past. It also had a stain on it that the laundry servants had not been able to remove, and was supposed to be worn for play inside the palace walls only. Anima carefully shifted to hide the stain. She didn’t want to be sent back upstairs to change.

Loki chuckled; his own outfit was stylish and flattering, with just a slight amount of flamboyance around the collar. His dark red hair though was beyond taming. Despite it being cut reasonably short it still looked as though escape was only a matter of time and opportunity.

The sound of boot steps made them look up. Odin had arrived. He looked vaguely surprised to see Anima, but gave her a smile straight away.

“Coming with us?” he asked.

Anima nodded. “I’m really good at riding my pony, I can show you!” she said.

“You can show us all around the city too,” Loki said. “I expect you are an expert at navigating it by now.”

Anima nodded. “I know all the street names and all the shops, oh, and the alehouses, but I’m not allowed inside them, I just know which ones they are.”

Odin chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Let’s get going, I want to make it as far as the Spice District.”

Anima ran to her pony, Sparkles, and mounted up without help.

Odin and Loki exchanged smiles and mounted up on their own horses.

“You need a horse, Puppy, something full sized so I can talk to you while you ride,” Loki said as they set out.

Anima trotted along beside him. Her head barely reached the height of his waist.

“I’ll be big enough to ride a horse soon,” she said, “in only a few more years.”

“That’s practically tomorrow!” Loki exclaimed, making her giggle.

They headed out of the gates and down the main road to the city. Two guards joined them as they left the palace behind.

“What are they doing here?” Loki asked.

Odin pulled his horse up. “Good question,” he said, looking at them enquiringly.

“Pardon us, your Grace, but standing orders for the princesses to be accompanied when they leave. We saddled up when we heard her pony had been made ready,” said one of the guards.

“It’s because I kept wandering off,” Anima said without a trace of shame.

“I’ll watch my own daughter today, thank you,” Odin said.

The guards gave him a bow and returned to the gate.

“Why were you wandering off?” Odin asked, turning to Anima.

She shrugged. “I kept seeing interesting things,” she said.

“Sounds fair,” Loki volunteered. “I always follow interesting things.”

“Stay with us today, if you see an interesting thing you can tell us and we’ll follow it together,” Odin said.

“Yes, Father,” Anima promised.

They rode on further, down the main road until they reached the first of the main crossings. 

“Looks busy,” Loki said. “All the returning soldiers are filling the streets.”

“Yes, a large number have returned at once, and it looks like the markets are selling more than they planned on,” Odin said.

“It’s not too bad, they still have produce,” Loki said.

Anima looked from one to the other as they spoke. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Odin looked down at her. “Half the army arrived home last night, that’s an extra fifteen thousand people entering the city and its surrounds. No doubt they all ate a celebratory meal with their families last night, but today those same families will be looking to stock up more food for the extra person. If it was only one or two people that wouldn’t matter, but fifteen thousand all at once will put a strain on the suppliers, they won’t have ordered enough for the increase.”

“And the rest of the army is due home in another month,” Loki added. “So it’ll be a while before the suppliers work out their new expected sales and how much they need to order from the farms and factories.”

Anima nodded. She felt like an adult for being included in their conversation. Supply was an important and serious business. 

“What can we do to help?” she asked.

“We can make an assessment of the situation and see if it remains under control or whether the crown must intervene,” Odin said. “We might have to order some of the returning warriors to eat at the barracks for a few weeks. We have field rations, which they won’t like but at least they are used to.”

“You’ll never get the married ones back in the barracks,” Loki said, “too many sweet things to eat at home.”

“Sweet things?” Anima asked, puzzled. Why would married warriors have more sweet things? Was it because they had wives and women bought more sugar? _Did_ women buy more sugar?

Odin shot a warning look over her head at Loki. “They’ll do as they are ordered for the good of Asgard,” he said, ignoring Anima’s question entirely.

Loki shrugged. “They’re just people, but sure, try it; the worst that can happen is a few people miss some meals while the suppliers restock.”

They rode on through the city, waving at the crowds and greeting warriors they had fought alongside.

Anima rode between them for a while, but it was hard to see over the horses, so she kicked her little pony into a trot and went out in front.

“Anima, where are you going?” Odin asked.

She sighed. “I just want to see,” she said.

“Come and ride alongside me then,” Odin said, “on my left side.”

“Better yet, come and ride on my right,” Loki said. “I could do with some intelligent conversation.”

Odin gave him a slightly puzzled look, but Loki just shrugged. “Crown Princes are a target, Gods from Jotunheim are not, at least, generally speaking,” he said. “You don’t want a madman trying to kill you to have to go through your daughter first.”

“I don’t think I’m in much danger,” Odin said. “Asgard is peaceful.”

Loki just shrugged as Anima joined him on his right side. “Peaceful is relative,” he said. “We’ve come back from war, lives have been lost, best to see how things lie without taking unnecessary risks.”

“How many wars have you come back from?” Odin asked him.

“One or two,” Loki answered.

Odin inclined his head to concede the point. War was seen generally as a glorious and exciting endeavour, but the reality rarely lived up to the hype.

Oblivious to their conversation, Anima continued along beside them, happy to have her father and her favourite uncle all to herself.

****

An hour after Anima had left, Daianya came down to the stables. She was wearing a brown dress made of hard-wearing wool and had a leather belt around her waist onto which her purse and small carry bag had been attached. Her hair was tied back, but already working its way loose, but other than that she was as presentable as a princess about to go riding should be.

She found her pony saddled and waiting for her, along with two guards and Thyra, her teacher.

“This is such an exciting day,” Thyra said. “A new goddess; it’s been an age since we had a new god.”

“I’m still me,” Daianya said, “I haven’t changed.”

“Oh but you have, your Grace, you are a _god_ , you are above most others, to channel Yggdrasil is the most extraordinary feat of all,” Thyra gushed.

Daianya forced a polite smile onto her face. Thyra’s reaction was typical of most of the population. The gods were seen as better, as people to look up to and admire.

Daianya wished she could tell them that it had been mostly exhausting, but they wouldn’t listen. A lot of people reacted the same way to her being a princess. They treated her as though she was special when really all she did was get born, and everyone had done that, some people more than once, if the myths about some of the older gods were to be believed. 

There weren’t a lot of gods around anymore. Most of them had lived and died in Asgard’s past, long before Daianya was born. A few were still around and walked the halls of Asgard’s palace with noble bearing and knowing smiles. Daianya hoped very much that she didn’t have to talk to them as a result of her new status. Frey, god of agriculture, and Freya, goddess of beauty, were frankly intimidating, and Bragi, god of poetry and music, was sadly mostly annoying. No doubt he had been something incredible in his prime, but Bragi was a very old man now and he had fallen into the habit of telling the same stories over and over again, especially the one about Ragnarok and how they were all going to die, which was kind of depressing to listen to at the age of ten.

Instead of responding to Thyra’s excessive praise, Daianya mounted up on her pony and settled into the saddle.

“Shall we go?” she asked.

The ride to the hospital was uneventful. There seemed to be a lot more people out and about but no one bothered them or got in their way. They reached the doors to the hospital in good time.

Thyra went in ahead of them and spoke to the receptionist, who immediately turned to look out of the window at Daianya.

The news of her godhood had travelled quickly. No doubt the common people saw it as a symbol of something, especially coming as it did on the heels of peace and returning warriors.

Daianya handed the reins of her pony to the stableman and headed inside. By the time she got there the main mind-healer was already present.

“Hello,” Dainanya said nervously. “I’m here to learn, um, about healing people’s souls?”

The healer dropped into a deep bow. “You are most welcome to study with us, your Grace, we have often wondered whether the mind and the soul shared a link, and based on what we have been told of your gifts it appears that they are entwined most deeply. We will be honours to teach you all that we know.”

“She’s a very good student, but you have to teach her quickly,” Thyra said. “She ages at a mortal rate, so she won’t have time to linger on things for a year or two.”

The healer turned to regard her. “Has anything been done?” she asked.

“The palace healers have tried to slow it down but the mortal sister appears to be utterly resistant to all their usual spells and potions,” Thyra said. “But they think it will slow down once they are grown, there are signs already that the princesses are becoming more independent from one another, physically. The Jotun especially is showing early maturity signs, just a few, nothing external yet.”

Daianya stood awkwardly between them. It wasn’t nice to have people speak around you rather than to you, but then again, she didn’t have anything she wanted to say.

The healer turned back to her. “I will be certain to teach you as quickly as you can learn, your Grace. My name is Sigrid.”

Daianya bowed her head in acknowledgement. “I look forward to learning from you,” she said. 

****

Nal reached the library not long after breakfast. She wore a grey dress with the new, square neckline that Freya was now championing, accented in silver ribbon. Her hair was brushed and immaculate, with two thin braids starting on either side and tied together behind her head. Her belt was silver, and a thin silver chain hung around her neck with a snowflake pendant on it. It had been a gift from Odin, and while she would have preferred a flower shape, he had meant well and clearly cared, so she told herself to appreciate the thought and wore it often.

The library did not have a lot of Jotun-specific books in it. There were books on the history of the nine realms, which of course included Jotunheim, and more books on the wars that were fought and which of the battle tactics used had been most effective, but nothing on Jotnir themselves.

She did find something interesting in a small passage regarding a battle fought long ago.

##### The Jotun army is primarily made up of hulking giants. The sound of their feet thumping against the ground is enough to strike terror into the easily intimidated. But it pays not to underestimate their sorcerers, for Jotun are naturally adaptive, and breed shapeshifters like rabbits breed kits. Beware unknown arrivals to your camp, for you may find that after the greetings are made that a spy has deceived you, and keep watch and know your horses, for it is not an uncommon shape for the Jotun to take.

Nal read the passage a few times. She knew that most of Asgard thought that Jotuns were slow and reasonably stupid, and here in front of her appeared to be, at least partially, an explanation.

The _army_ , no doubt, attracted those who were slow and stupid because running up and hitting the enemy was hardly an intellectually taxing task. It was reasonable to assume that Jotun with a bit more intellect would become troop leaders and generals, which was _exactly what happened in the Asgardian army and people really shouldn’t be so quick to think everyone who wasn’t like them was stupid or wrong_.

Nal screwed up her nose at the book and almost slammed it shut, but she stopped herself at the last second. 

The author didn’t deserve her anger. He had openly written that at least some Jotun were clever enough to be spies.

Loki was Jotun and he could change his shape. Nal had seen him do it for fun. Once he’d turned into a rat and run up the king’s pants. 

She read the passage again, wondering idly if she could learn to so the same thing, or whether being a shape-changer was something you had to be born with.

She glanced around, but no one was watching. She looked at her hand and tried to imagine it turning into a paw.

Anyone who happened to look over would have seen a child of about ten sitting on an overly-large chair staring directly at her own hand and looking like she was straining rather badly to go to the toilet.

Nothing. 

Nal sighed and extended her hand to the table in front of her instead. She concentrated and a rough-looking flower formed out of ice underneath her palm. It was hard work making ice appear, although her grandmother had assured her that she was doing quite well for a child and would only get better with practice.

“What are you doing?!” said a voice, making her jump. It was the head librarian. 

“Nothing,” Nal said, covering the ice flower with her hand.

“I saw you making ice, and in the _library_. You will ruin the books!”

Nal slipped from her seat and put the ice-flower in her pocket-bag.

“I most certainly did not,” she said, in her most haughty tone.

“I _saw_ you,” the head librarian snapped.

“I don’t see how, as I did not do it,” Nal said, looking her directly in the eye.

“Stop lying to me, I saw you myself!”

“You can’t have, because I didn’t do it,” Nal said.

The head librarian just stared at her in bewilderment.

“I’m borrowing these,” Nal said, picking up the books.

“No you aren’t.”

“Good day,” Nal said politely and walked away without looking back. No one had to know how much her heart was thumping. No one had to know how close she was to breaking into a run.

But if there was one thing she had learned from watching her grandfather, and Loki, among others of the court, it was that bald-faced lying was a fairly good strategy to use against people when they accused you of something. A fair amount of the time, the person accusing you of doing something didn’t actually have the power to call your bluff.

She made it as far as the corridor to the tower and finally broke down into laughter. The head librarian didn’t like her, but then so very few people did that Nal didn’t consider it to be too great of a loss.


	5. Making Enemies

Anima handed the reins of her pony to the stableman and gave it a last pat on the nose.

“I’ll be big enough to say goodbye to you soon,” she said, “but I’ll still visit you, and bring you sugar.”

“Not too much sugar, he’ll get fat,” Loki said. 

“You’ll have your pony for a little while longer,” Odin said, but whether he said that because he believed it or because he wanted to believe it was up for debate.

“I’m getting bigger,” Anima said. “Teacher Thyra says I look bigger almost every day.”

“Yes,” Odin said with a sad smile. “You’ll be an adult in less than a decade.”

Anima made a rude sort of sound between her lips. “A decade is ages and ages. It took me a decade to get this far!” she said, gesturing up and down at herself.

Odin blinked hard and took a deep breath. “It didn’t seem that long to me,” he assured her.

Anima shrugged. “I’m going to see Grandmother and see if she has any new stories,” she said. “Will you come with me?”

“I can’t sweetheart,” Odin said. “I’ve got a lot to do, bringing an army home is not an easy exercise.”

“Uncle Loki?”

“I’ll be helping your father, Puppy, but I’ll be in the garden with the fountains later, relaxing and playing with butterflies, if you want to join me,” Loki said with a fond twinkle in his eye. “Go and see Bestla, she’ll be happy to share her stories with you.”

Anima gave them both a hug and ran off.

Odin swallowed hard. “It feels as though she was born yesterday,” he said.

“I think mortals must experience time differently to us,” Loki said. “A decade is nothing, but she can’t wait to grow up.”

“I’d give anything to slow her down,” Odin said. “The healers have been trying everything they can think of, but nothing seems to work.”

“She’s mortal, brother, and pure mortal at that. No trickle of elf blood, no distant ancestor from Asgard. She is your daughter but there isn’t a trace of you in her, at least, not any of the parts that make you Asgardian or Jotun, maybe some part that is universal between us all, like the instructions to only have one head, or two arm and legs” Loki said.

“Frankly, I don’t think she even got that from me,” Odin said. “She is her mother’s daughter, and every day she turns into Yrsa more and more. I can’t see any of me in her.”

“I wonder if she’s a clone,” Loki said. “What Yrsa did was unprecedented, no one had ever seen such a feat, and what she left behind were three children from three completely different worlds. You have no mortal in you to give, so maybe Anima is wholly Yrsa’s, whereas Daianya is entirely you, but only from one side of you, and Nal is the other side.”

“Maybe,” Odin mused, “but that doesn’t explain how they look so similar to one _another_.” 

Loki shrugged. “Magic? It’s usually magic. Come on, let’s get a drink, I’m parched.”

“That can wait,” said a voice from the doorway. It was King Bor; he looked annoyed at having to be in the same place as Loki. “Traditionally people bow to a king,” he said.

“Traditionally they also respect them,” Loki countered.

Odin shoved his blood-brother hard in the arm. “My father is your King,” he reminded, a little sternly.

Loki pulled a face that indicated that maybe he didn’t think Bor was that much of a king. Bor glared at him, but turned to Odin “Have you told him yet?” he asked.

“No, Father, we were surveying the state of the city,” Odin said. “We need to-”

“We need a wall around the Asgard,” Bor said, “something that will withstand a blast like that one that almost destroyed us.”

“The one Yrsa saved us from," Loki corrected. "I’m not convinced anyone can build a wall around the whole of Asgard.”

“They _aimed_ for the Palace; it’s a very obvious target. If we can build something to stop a blast like that and absorb the energy then it won’t cause a chain reaction and reach the rest of the realm,” Odin said, “assuming that a wall around the whole realm is unfeasible.”

“Ask in Jotunheim, they have very good builders over there, the siege weapons they brought to battle can attest to that,” Bor said.

“I’ll just pack my things and go today, shall I?” Loki said.

“Yes,” Bor said. “I want it done as quickly as possible, a construction like that will take years to complete.”

Loki sighed dramatically. “But I only just got home, my rooms still smell of dust and that sandwich I forgot to throw away before leaving.”

“Go,” Bor said, “and make sure you don’t promise any specific payment, I will negotiate that myself. I’m still arguing with Eitri about Gungnir and Mjolnir.”

“You haven’t paid him? King that is very impolite,” Loki said.

“You promised him too much!” Bor said.

“You said to get weapons fit for a god, I _got_ you weapons fit for a god,” Loki said. “You never said you weren’t willing to pay for them.”

“You should pay for them,” Bor said, “as a gift to your blood-family.”

“Oh so _now_ we’re related,” Loki said.

“We will never be related,” Bor said angrily, “but you are a sworn blood-brother of my son, so you should pay for Mjolnir as a gift to him.”

“Father, Brother, please stop,” Odin said. “We should pay our debts, Father, and Loki will no longer promise payment on your behalf. Anyone willing to take a commission from you can come to the palace and negotiate.”

“It’s not _our_ debt,” Bor said.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I don’t have that kind of money anyway,” he said. “Where are the spoils of war I’ve heard so much about?”

“You’ll get your share just like everyone else,” Bor said. “Or maybe I’ll send it straight to Eitri.”

“You do that,” Loki said. “I wasn’t planning to use it anyway.”

“You still have to pay the remainder,” Bor insisted.

“No,” Loki said bluntly.

“Please, peace,” Odin said forcefully. “Loki will you please travel to Jotunheim in search of a master builder for us, and Father, will you please consider the benefits we have enjoyed from having such powerful weapons? Eitri made them on the understanding that we would pay what he asked. Whatever the situation here, he should still receive his payment.”

Bor grunted. “He can have it when Loki here earns it. I’ll send his spoils as a part payment and he can make up the rest in battle.”

“There are no more battles, we won,” Odin pointed out.

“There are always more battles,” Bor said. “The realms are filled with enemies.”

“That’s because you won’t stop making them-” Loki said, but broke off from saying more when Odin stepped on his foot. “Very well, I shall pack my bags and travel to Jotunehim tomorrow to see what I can find. It’s been simply ages since I last visited my mother anyway, no doubt she’ll be happy to see that I am still well.” 

Bor grunted and turned away without acknowledgement, happy to once again pretend that Loki did not exist now that he had gotten what he wanted.

Loki turned to Odin.

“I wasn’t kidding about that sandwich, you know,” he said. “My rooms smell terrible.”

****

Anima reached her grandmother’s rooms at the same time as Nal. They pushed open the door and stepped inside the cool, blue-lighted chamber beyond.

Nal headed for the reflection pool in the centre of the main living area immediately, while Anima paused to pull a large fur cloak from a hook on the wall. Bestla had given it to her when she was very small as protection against the cold air that the queen so preferred. It had been one of Bestla’s own cloaks, made from the neck fur of a Drapht, a massive creature from the frozen plains of Jotunheim, and it was comically enormous on Anima’s ten-year-old frame, but she loved it anyway. Anima pulled it over her shoulders, put the hood up, and set off after her sister. The cloak trailed behind her almost six whole feet, sweeping the floor clean of frost as it did so. 

“Hello my dears,” Bestla said, stepping out from her bedroom and into the living area. “Have you come to tell me about your adventures?”

Nal sat down by the pool with a flop. “I looked up Jotun physiology in the library,” she said. “They didn’t tell me anything.”

“It’s for the best, dear, you will know everything you need to _when_ you need to,” Bestla said with a smile.

Nal huffed in disagreement but didn’t argue.

Anima pulled on the cloak until the train of it was piled up into a soft seat and sat down. “I went into the city with Father and Uncle Loki today,” she said. “I rode my pony and we talked about food supply now that the army is returning. Grandmother, do women buy more sugar than men?”

Bestla looked puzzled. “I don’t _think_ so, dear, but I can’t say that I have ever paid attention to the buying habits of Asgardian women.”

Anima put her chin in her hands. “Uncle Loki seems to think they do,” she said.

“Will you tell us a story, Grandmother?” Nal asked. 

Bestla smiled. “I would love to, my dear, let me fetch the juice and something to nibble on.” She disappeared into her dining room and returned with a plate of sweet biscuits and some glasses. “Will Daianya be coming along at all?” she asked.

Anima shook her head as Nal spoke. “She has been sent to the Hospital to learn from the mind healers. They are really excited about her new status as a god.”

“Oh yes, the gods, well I can’t say that I understand the fuss, but then this is not my realm. I’m sure the Asgardians know what they are doing,” Bestla said. “To my eyes she is a little girl who should be playing games and listening to stories.”

“She’s growing up very fast,” Nal said, “we all are.”

She glanced at Anima who threw her hands up in a shrug. “I’m not doing it on purpose,” she said.

“No one is saying you are, my dear, you are like the Jewel of the Frost in the court of Surtur,” Bestla said, “something that is all the more precious because it is temporary.”

Nal and Anima both leaned forward in anticipation as Bestla began yet another of her stories. 

****

Svartalfheim was a world of darkness, surrounded as it was by concentrated dark matter, and the only light source for the entire realm came from the boundaries of a nearby black hole before it was sucked away into the centre.

Malekith, King of the Dark Elves, walked down the enclosed corridors of the facility he was visiting, escorted by two scientists and accompanied by his Lead General, Algrim. They were there to witness a potentially new weapon for their arsenal, one he was hopeful would tip the balance of power between the Dark Elves and the Asgardians. 

He had joined Asgard in the war against the Titans fifty years ago, but had suffered heavy losses in battle. The Titans were naturally far stronger and less vulnerable than any of Malekith’s soldiers, and he had been forced to watch as his army had fallen far quicker than that of his allies. The Asgardians had suffered far less, and even the Jotnir army had brought most of their soldiers back home with them.

In exchange for this grand sacrifice, King Bor had claimed all of the spoils the Titan’s left behind for himself and his army, and Midgard itself had been so damaged from repeated attacks that there was no one, and no gifts, left for them to give in thanks for Malekith’s assistance.

He was angry and bitter. The worlds outside their own were bathed in painful light, and Malekith was convinced that it had made them cruel and blind. The Titans deserved to be destroyed, but if King Bor thought that the Asgardians didn’t deserve the same fate then he was sorely mistaken.

“In here, my King,” the more senior of the scientists said. 

Malekith entered the room. It was empty, but it overlooked another, more secure room, in which there were three test subjects strapped to beds. Their bodies looked wasted and sick. Even to Malekith’s eyes, untrained in medicine as he was, they looked as though death was not far away.

“Begin,” the scientist said through a communication device. Inside the room, one of his colleagues handed a black stone to each of the test subjects. He then picked up a vice-like device and manoeuvred it over the hand of the first subject.

“They are too weak to crush it themselves,” the scientist said. “But ordinary men will not need such assistance.”

The scientist in the room put pressure on the device. The hand of the test subject compressed, causing some of his bones to break. He cried out a little in pain, but then the stone was crushed and red light began to flow from it and through his body.

He stopped crying out. His body began to glow brighter and brighter. Malekith winced at the sight as, inside the room, the scientist ducked down behind a barrier. The light grew brighter and spread out until it covered the man’s body entirely. He looked as though he was burning up, or possibly turning into lava.

"You have made him one of Surtur's men," Algrim said.

"I assure you, General, that we have not," the scientist said.

The test subject broke through his restraints and leapt from the bed with a scream of rage. There was a sudden explosion of power from his body that caused the protective screen to shudder violently. 

When the smoke cleared, the man stood there, whole and healthy, or at least, as healthy as a Kursed man could get.

The scientist in the room came out of hiding and began to fit the device over the hand of the next subject.

“We managed to isolate the source of the berserker rage in the Asgardians from scans taken on the battlefield. It was difficult to get anything in sufficient depth and detail but your soldiers were most adept at getting close to them,” the senior scientist at Malekith’s side continued.

Malekith growled low under his breath. Berserkers didn’t much care who they attacked, as long as it wasn’t another Asgardian they would turn on just about anyone. King Bor had confirmed this fact for him _after_ their first joint battle, and after he’d lost several good soldiers to their so-called ally.

“We have recreated the phenomenon in spell form, and placed it into these stones using curse magic. We’ve been calling them Kurse Stones,” the scientist continued. 

“And they make soldiers become berserkers?” Malekith asked.

The Kursed in the room was not looking particularly enraged. He was moving his arms about and testing his new-found strength by lifting the bed he had been lying on with one arm.

“Not quite,” the scientist said. “Our Kursed become as strong and as invulnerable as a berserker, but while they do feel an increased sense of aggression, they do not lose their wits.”

Malekith looked at him with interest. “That is of great benefit,” he said, “but I am not a stupid man, curse magic always ends in death.”

“That is true, my King, we tried every other kind of magic but none would give use the result we wanted. The Kursed become everything a berserker is and more, but after a few days the magic consumes them and they die.”

Malekith exchanged glances with Algrim. “That is not necessarily a drawback,” Algrin said. “All of our men are willing to die for their king; it is a matter of certainty as a Kursed versus uncertainty as a regular soldier on the battlefield.”

Malekith smiled. “Continue the work, try to make improvements, but even if you can’t, you have done well. My Kursed shall fall upon Asgard and show them that they are no better than the Titan conquerors. We shall destroy them completely.”

“How long do we have to research before you wish to start stockpiling the Kurse Stones, my King?” the scientist asked.

Malekith gave it some thought. “You have about twenty years to continue the research,” he said, “for then the Convergence will be five years away, and with the walls between worlds thinned to breaking point, it is the perfect time to launch an attack.”

The scientist bowed low to him. “As my King commands,” he said.

“Keep me informed of any updates,” Malekith said, turning away.

Twenty-five years was nothing, the war had taken twice that long, but it was still long enough for Asgard, and King Bor, to grow complacent and let their guard down.

“No one is to know of this discovery,” Malekith said to Algrim. “I want no warning for them. I want them to know what it feels like to be ripped apart from an unstoppable enemy.”

“Yes, my King,” Algrim said, “the scientists’ families?”

“Accidents,” Malekith said, “as many as possible, I want no distractions to the work.”

“Yes, my King,” Algrim acknowledged.


	6. Ten Years Later

**Ten years later. Fifteen years until the Convergence.**

Daianya sat outside the office of King Bor and waited patiently. She had an audience with the King, requested by him, and was not entirely certain as to what it could be about.

She was _hoping_ that he’d read her request to travel to Vanaheim and study at the University there. They had a large number of people trained in psychological healing and she had outlined a rather lengthy and detailed request on why she should be furthering her education in the mundane side of healing wounded souls.

And while she was there, perhaps, if no one was watching too closely, she might be able to learn how to wield a sword as well.

It wasn’t as though she thought battle was glorious or heroic – she’d seen far too many broken men to believe that – but the actual art of sword wielding, the movement and the jarring impacts fascinated her. It was like dancing, only deadly.

Of course there was the added bonus that she would be able to defend herself and her realm if need be, but Daianya mostly hoped for peace. Asgard had been at peace for ten years now, and it was thriving as a result. More children, more wealth, less grief, it was better for the people.

Daianya had originally wanted to join the Valkyrie, the women warriors of the army who rode winged horses and charged the enemy from above, but Odin had not been keen on the idea. He had muttered something about Hela being more than enough, and how war wasn’t really exciting, and then changed the subject before Daianya could lay out her reasoning.

Odin was an exceptional warrior, but he didn’t enjoy it the way his father and eldest daughter did. Instead he preached peace and compromise. Daianya felt it was unfair that she had to pay the price for his difference of opinion.

The door opened and Bor’s secretary gave her a bow of acknowledgement and gestured her to come inside. She rose, took a deep breath to steady her heart, and entered her grandfather’s office.

Bor was at his workbench, looking utterly bored. He looked up briefly and made a ‘come here’ gesture. Daianya walked forward until she stood in front of him and waited politely.

“Sit, girl, I’ve read your letter, very comprehensive,” Bor said, still writing on the previous paper in front of him. He glanced up at her for the first time and blinked slightly. “Are you still aging?” he asked, scanning her face.

“Yes, your Majesty, but the healers say it’s slowing down now that Anima is almost fully grown,” Daianya said, sitting in one of the chairs before Bor’s workbench.

“She’s robbed you of a thousand years of life, you know,” Bor said. “Just yesterday they told me you were born and now look at you, a woman almost grown, although you are still rather short.”

Daianya shrugged as gracefully as she could. Despite excellent nutrition and medical care, the girls’ had stopped increasing in height at five foot three inches, putting them below average compared to the rest of the realm. “Anima didn’t choose her lifespan any more than anyone else,” she said, tactfully ignoring the comment on her height. “If she had, I doubt she’d have chosen to stick with a mortal one.”

“And the healers tried everything to slow it down?”

“Everything they could think of, yes, your Majesty. She’s relentlessly mortal, and Nal and I are along for the ride, at least until we are fully grown,” Daianya said.

Bor grunted. “I suppose it’s not so bad, children are mostly a bother anyway, you can _talk_ to an adult. Now, about your request, it’s a fine one, makes sense, expands your education, increases diplomatic ties with Vanaheim, but you can’t go.”

Daianya pressed her lips together quickly to avoid saying something she’d regret. 

Bor’s eyes crinkled just slightly. He was a brash, larger-than-life sort of man who gave the impression of wanting nothing more than a cold drink and someone to fight to make him happy, but he was also a king, and kings rarely stayed kings long without being at least a little bit able to read people.

“You can’t go because I need you here,” he said. “You’re almost a woman grown now, twenty this month, and it’s time you started helping the family with royal business.”

Daianya nodded respectfully. “What would you like me and my sisters to do?” she asked, trying to subtly hint that Bor had another two granddaughters reaching the same age, a fact that he seemed almost determined to forget as often as possible.

“I want you to join the Valkyrie,” Bor said, making her blink. “Oh I know you’ve never picked up so much as a club before, but Hela’s always been more of a free spirit when it comes to fighting, she lasted less than a day in their ranks, and I need someone in this family besides your father to learn a few battle tactics. You never know when an enemy is going to come for you.”

Daianya held her hands clasped to keep them from shaking. “Yes, your Majesty, I would be honoured to join the Valkyrie,” she said.

“I’m sure you would, given that you asked your father when you were ten if you might, and eleven, and twelve, and every year after that,” Bor said. “He does talk to me, you know, and it is his right as your father to approve, or in this case not approve, your activities. But as of next month you will be considered an adult in your own right, and therefore, as a citizen of Asgard, your movements are shortly going to be mine to direct, and I want you in the Valkyrie.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Daianya said, trying and failing to keep the smile off her face.

“Now if only I had someone who liked to read farming reports,” Bor muttered.

“Nal reads those every week for her own knowledge,” Daianya volunteered.

“She does?”

“Yes, she loves gardening, and she says farming is just gardening on a much bigger scale. Crop yields, storage logistics, she enjoys it,” Daianya said.

Bor looked thoughtful. He paid very little attention to his other grandchildren, as a rule. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he conceded, “for as long as she’s here anyway.”

Daianya frowned, as in the back of her head a voice suddenly said _What?_

“What do you mean, your Majesty?” she asked.

Bor shrugged briskly. “Nothing of any importance, but she’s made of ice, one day she’ll no doubt want to go back to Jotunheim where it’s more suitable for her.”

 _I’ve never **been** to Jotunheim._ thought Nal in Daianya’s head.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Daianya began tentatively, but whatever argument she wanted to make was interrupted by a knocking on the door.

“Come,” called Bor.

His secretary pushed the door open and stuck his head through. “Your Majesty, I thought you would want to know immediately, Loki of Utgard has returned. He’s coming down the main street right now, leading a horse with eight legs.”

Bor sighed heavily. “Of course he is,” he said. He stood up and set his papers aside. “I shall go and greet him, and find out what all this is about. No doubt he will have some fool’s reason for it.”

Daianya rose and followed her grandfather in silence. The question of Nal would have to wait until another day, but for now she felt almost giddy with happiness. She was going to join the Valkyrie! 

In complete defiance of her father’s wishes, but he’d eventually see that she was right to want to learn. Princesses should have a well-rounded education, and Daianya was determined to be a good princess.

****

Anima sat on a chair in the healer’s wing and looked up from one healer to another as they fussed over her head. They had yet another potion to give her to try and stop her from aging so quickly. 

As a rule, the other inhabitants of the nine realms didn’t bother too much about mortals. They lived, they died, they were mostly left to themselves unless they did something truly impressive, or dangerous, or both. But Anima’s natural aging process was affecting her very-much-not-mortal sisters, and therefore was seen as something to be cured rather than accepted.

“The potion last time appeared to have had an effect,” Estrid said. “We detected a small slow-down in your aging process.”

They were so enthusiastic; Anima actually felt sorry for them.

“I’m sure this one will work,” she said encouragingly.

“We’ve strengthened it considerably,” Estrid said.

Anima gave her a smile and didn’t say anything. She strongly suspected that the ‘slowing down’ of her aging process was an equally natural phenomenon, based on the fact that mortals did tend to stop aging so rapidly once they left their childhood behind. She was almost twenty years old, she had stopped increasing in height several years ago and her physical development was also more-or-less done. In about four or five more years, according to the books on mortal anatomy she’d been reading, the once rapid and now slow development of her body would finally grind to a halt, and then almost immediately her body would begin to start breaking down, albeit quite a bit slower than it had built itself up. 

Asgardians didn’t have that problem. They grew extremely slowly, and once they reached adulthood they stopped aging entirely for thousands of years, before finally beginning again sometime in the last thousand years of life. To them it must seem as though she suffered from some kind of fast-acting disease, which certainly explained their sense of urgency.

“It’s a pity we don’t have any of Idunn’s apples left,” Estrid said. “We had the juice in cold storage for ages after she died but we used it all in the war to save the lives of our warriors.”

“An extremely noble use,” Anima said.

She had heard of Idunn, the Goddess of Eternal Youth. Supposedly she could cause a branch of Yggdrasil to grow up wherever she wanted and harvest the golden apples it grew; granting an increase in life to whomever ate them. She had died about five hundred years before Anima was born, apparently from wounds inflicted by an outraged Jotun named Thiazi, whom she had spurned in favour of her husband, Bragi, two millennia before. Apparently Thiazi had held a grunge.

In any case, Idunn was gone and the apples with her. The last of the preserved juice had been used up, and Anima was out of luck, assuming the juice would have even worked. She wasn’t Asgardian, so maybe it would have done nothing for her.

One of the healers had glanced out of the window and suddenly went “Oh.”

“What is it?” Anima asked.

“Loki of Utgard is back!” she said. “I can see him walking down the main street! King Bor and Prince Odin are in the yard to greet him.”

Anima jumped up from her chair. “I’ll try the potion later,” she said and raced out of the door before they could stop her.

****

Loki was indeed walking down the main street leading a horse with eight legs. It made quite a sight, and the people of Asgard were appearing in doorways and windows and alleyways to catch a peek.

Loki gave them all cheerful waves. He was taking his time strolling along as though he had not a care in the world.

And _because_ he was taking his time, King Bor, Prince Odin, and Princesses Hela, Daianya and Anima were all waiting for him by the time he reached the palace gates.

“Greetings, King!” Loki called out cheerfully.

Bor scowled. “I see your time away did not teach you any respect,” he said.

Loki shrugged.

“Uncle Loki! You’re okay!” Anima called out.

“I am indeed, my darling puppy. I had many adventures though, which I will recount tonight at the feast King Bor will no doubt wish to throw in honour of my return!” Loki said, turning to look at the king.

“You still never bow to me,” Bor said.

“I made a vow, a vow to bow, only before a King I can wow, and you, King, are never impressed by me,” Loki replied.

“That at least is accurate,” Bor said. “Where the hell did you get the horse?”

“I made it,” Loki said, with a grin.

His grin stayed fixed in anticipation as they, one by one, worked it out.

“That’s disgusting!” Hela said, turning on her heal and striding away.

“She never did like stories about the creation of life,” Loki said to Odin conspiratorially.

“How?” Odin asked weakly.

“Well you know that builder that you asked me to take care of, King, the one that was building your wall? Well you all saw me turn into a mare and lead his mighty stallion away, through the city and into the forest?”

“Yes,” Bor said, sounded weary already.

“Well I wasn’t quite fast enough, you see, I ran until I was exhausted, but he caught up with me, and then – ”

“You fucked the horse, didn’t you?” Bor said. 

It wasn’t really a question.

“I did, yeah,” Loki confirmed.

“Why didn’t you turn back into yourself?” Odin asked.

“How do you know I didn’t?” Loki countered. “Anyway, I got a bit pregnant and then along came Sleipnir. He’s very fast, so fast in fact, that I want you, brother, to have him.”

“He is not your brother and I won’t have him riding your son,” Bor snapped.

“ _Blood_ brother, noble and true, I gift you this horse, which has eight legs and can run faster than a flyer, but you do not have to ride him,” Loki said.

Bor sighed deeply and turned away. “We had almost a full year of peace and quiet with you gone,” he said.

“Did the wall get finished?” Loki asked.

Bor growled under his breath as Odin answered.

“No, after the stallion ran off the builder couldn’t finish by the deadline and so wasn’t going to get paid. Instead of honouring the contract to finish for free he threw down his tools and refused,” Odin said. “It will raise almost to the top of the palace, but it won’t generate the second shield for the realm.”

Loki gave him a knowing look. “I wonder who could have possibly seen that coming?” he said.

“You were the one who said he wouldn’t be able to finish by the deadline in the first place and to take his deal,” Bor said.

“True, but in my defence, I did not know he had a magic, load-bearing, rather studly-looking horse,” Loki said. “And besides, I fixed the problem; I got rid of the horse.”

“The builder got into a fight with the guards when he refused to finish but also refused to leave. He ended up getting killed,” Odin said.

Loki sighed deeply. “How… completely expected. No! Please! Don’t ever surprise me or exceed my ridiculously low expectations.”

Bor, having had enough for one day, began walking away. “We need to find someone who can finish the wall,” he called over his shoulder, “I have already instructed all of our engineers to take a look and see if they can finish what the Jotun builder started. It can’t be that hard, he did finish ninety percent of it.”

“That last ten percent is usually the most important one,” Loki said. He handed the reins of Sleipnir to Odin. “Be nice to him,” he said.

“I will,” Odin replied, glancing sideways at Sleipnir, who continued to stare straight ahead.

Loki winked. “I was talking to Sleipnir, but I’m glad to hear it.”

He pulled a travelling pack off Sleipnir’s back. “Gifts!” he announced. “I have brought gifts! This little beauty is for Anima, my dearest spellcaster, because honestly I think she’s the only one in this realm who can handle it.”

He pulled out a cube, technically small enough to be held in one hand, but only just. It glowed a bright blue colour and almost hummed with power.

Odin raised both his eyebrows. “What is that?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m hoping your daughter will be able to find out. All I could tell was that it is filled with power,” Loki said, tossing it to Anima.

Anima caught it and yelped as her hair began to stand on end. “This thing is incredible!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with glee.

Bor stopped walking away and turned. “What does it do?” he asked.

Loki shrugged. “No idea, but the person who had it did not want me to have it, which is a real shame, because I ended up with it and now he’s angry with me.”

“That’s hardly a new situation for you to be in,” Bor said, before turning to Anima. “Girl, find out what it does and let me know, if it’s a weapon I want it for the army.”

Anima nodded and gave Bor a quick bow. “Yes, your Majesty,” she said.

Loki waited until Bor’s back was turned and shook his head. Anima winked at him.

“I’m standing right here and can see you both,” Odin said.

“Yeah, but you won’t tell,” Loki said. “You love the puppy too much to take away her toys.”

He pulled something else out of his bag. “And this is for Daianya, because it’s made of uru and therefore can’t be eaten by her hair.”

“That’s uru?” Odin said, naming the toughest metal in the nine realms. Only the most powerful weapons were forged from it, Gungnir, Bor’s spear and the symbol of Asgardian kingship, had been forged from it. 

It was a coronet, and it was indeed made of uru.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Daianya said diplomatically.

“And if you twist it here the little points go that way and it becomes a very effective face shield,” Loki pointed out.

“Daianya is not a fighter,” Odin protested as she looked more closely at her present, and with far more enthusiasm.

“Now where did Hela get to?” Loki asked, looking around. “Oh she’s gone, pity, I got her this axe.”

“She can summon her own axes,” Anima said.

“Yeah, but this one is really big,” Loki said. “And it lights up when you throw it.”

“You can give it to her at the feast,” Odin said.

“Oh so there _will_ be a feast? I wasn’t sure, the king didn’t say,” Loki said.

“Of course there will be, you are my blood brother and you have returned from a grand adventure,” Odin said.

“I fucked a horse and then took a holiday, but honestly most of my grand adventures start that way, so I will be honoured to attend a feast celebrating my return,” Loki said. “No doubt Nal will be there so that I can give her present to her as well.”

“Nal is in her room. She’s in the middle of propagating something really sensitive, but she should be done soon,” Anima said.

Loki looked up at the palace before him and regarded the tower where the girls’ rooms were. Nal’s window was visible from where he stood, and purple and orange flowering vines flowed freely from the bottom of the sill.

“I suppose I could do with some exercise,” he said.

****

Loki reached the top of the tower and made an exaggerated groan. There was no response from behind the door to Nal’s room.

He sighed, not quite hiding the smile on his face, and stepped up to the door to knock.

“Are you in there? Or did you leave before I started climbing this extremely tall and not at all practical tower?” he called out.

The door opened a minute later and Nal poked her head around to regard him. 

“I was creating cuttings of the Moonlight Flowering Whispering Dancer,” she said. “It can only be done under full sun, ironically.”

“I thought I saw you at the window as I was walking up, but then you didn’t come down and greet me,” Loki said.

“By the time I got all the way to the bottom floor you would have been gone anyway,” Nal said.

“True, have you considered installing an elevator?” Loki asked.

“There is one, it runs up the side of the tower,” Nal replied.

“Are you joking?”

“No, it’s right over there,” Nal said, pointing out of the door to where an elevator landing could be seen.

Loki stared at it, stone-faced, for a second. “Please do not tell anyone that I actually climbed the stairs,” he said.

“Very well,” Nal said, suppressing a smile.

Loki’s face broke and he smiled as well. “You’ve grown again,” he said, changing the subject. “You look like an adult.”

“They say it’s slowing down,” Nal said.

“Oh, good? That’s good, yes?”

Nal shrugged. “It _is_ , whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen.”

“I brought you a present,” Loki said, “obtained at great peril to myself.”

“Doubtful,” Nal said. “Although I heard what you got the others, and there’s no way you paid for that face shield.”

“I paid in less conventional ways,” Loki said. “I always pay one way or another.”

“And the magic cube?”

“That one has a story behind it.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

Loki held out his hand; there was a small bag in it. “I got you some seeds,” he said. “Ice flowers from the fields of Melayla, supposed to be one of the most beautiful flowers in the galaxy, and something called a Death Flower; I’m not sure what it does.”

Nal took the bag with a smile. “I think I can figure it out,” she said.

“Don’t touch the thorns, or the petals, or the stem, or the pollen,” Loki added.

“I’ll grow it in the death garden,” Nal said. “It’s where all my deadly plants are grown. Thank you, Loki.”

He waved away her thanks. “I had fun getting them,” he said.

Nal put the bag carefully down on the table in front of her. “Nevertheless, thank you,” she said, and paused for a second with a slight grimace, “really a horse?” she asked.

Loki just grinned.


	7. The Trouble with Being Jotun

Feasts were a regular occurrence in Bor’s Asgard. He enjoyed eating in the great hall with all of his favourite people. Over time the concept of dinner at the palace became merged with the idea that everyone would all dine together, and therefore Loki’s welcome home feast was already three quarters cooked before anyone knew he was coming. Odin stood and made a short speech regarding Loki’s return while Bor sat stoically at the head table, and the feast officially began.

Loki, as the honoured guest, sat with the royal family, a fact which put Bor in even more of a bad mood. Hela meanwhile had recovered from her disgust at the creation of life and accepted her new axe with a smile of pleasure.

“I cannot wait to bury it in someone,” she said, throwing a hopeful look in Bor’s direction.

In the years before the war Hela had been Bor’s chief enforcer and raid leader. Following the war’s end she had gone back to her previous role but it was clear that it didn’t satisfy her the way it used to. She had spent fifty glorious years surrounded by massive numbers of deaths from all sides. Like an addict with a drug she could no longer go back to such small amounts to get the same sense of joy and delirium.

“We’ll see,” Bor said to her. “If we cannot make peace with the Kronans then we’ll see battle soon enough.”

“Why are tensions so high?” Nal asked.

Odin shook his head. “They live on a world that is rich in Uranium, which we can make great use of in our flyers and our spaceships. We’ve been trying to work out a trade but they don’t want anything.”

“They want to be left alone,” Loki said. “Isn’t that what they said before I left?”

Bor grunted. “They say that, but then they keep raiding the Vanaheim quarries for amosite. I think they eat it.”

“They use it to line their furnaces,” Nal said. “They do not suffer any ill effect from its use, and it is extremely good at heat resistance.”

“How do you know that?” Bor asked.

“It was in a book on the Kronans that I read in the library,” Nal said.

“Huh,” Bor said.

“Isn’t going to war over resources what the Titans did?” Nal asked. “Aren’t we meant to be better than them?”

“We are better than them, we are stronger, mightier, better fighters, in every way we are better than them,” Bor said, sounding annoyed.

“That’s not what I-”

“What happened to the Titans anyway?” Hela interrupted. 

“They are all dying,” Bor said. “Too many people, not enough food, not enough energy; serves them right.”

Nal looked down at her plate to hide her expression.

“At least one has escaped,” Loki said conversationally.

“Impossible,” Bor snapped. “We locked the system down with weapons and with magic. They can’t leave, they’ll have to stay and face their own problems.”

“Well, the person I stole the magic cube from was a Titan; I believe he used it to bypass our spells somehow,” Loki said. “Which is why I wanted Anima to have it; she’ll be able to figure out how it was done.”

Bor showed him genuine interest for the first time that evening. 

“That is important information that you withheld until now,” he said.

Loki shrugged. “It was one Titan; clearly he didn’t know how to use the thing properly because the rest of them are still where we left them.”

“Unless he wanted them to remain,” Daianya said. 

“Why would he want that?” Odin asked. “He’d have to be mad not to try and save more of his kind.”

“Where is he?” Hela asked with a seductive type of smile. “I would dearly love to know.”

“I stole the cube from him at a place called Knowhere,” Loki said. “He was trying to get supplies for his ship, which was looking rather run down and more than a little damaged.”

Hela stood up, eyes shining. “Let me travel there, Grandfather, I will dispose of him.”

Bor nodded. “Take a small crew, you’ll need them to track him if he’s left, and to navigate with the ship,” he said.

Hela strode out with a smile on her face, carrying her new axe in a tight fist.

“She really doesn’t handle peacetime well,” Daianya observed.

Nal nodded, taking a bite of her fish. She chewed once and then stopped.

Anima and Daianya both stopped what they were doing, frowned identical frowns, and turned to look at her questioningly but she didn’t respond. Very slowly, Nal swallowed the fish in her mouth and gently put her fork down on the plate. 

“I’ve had enough,” she said quietly. “May I leave, your Majesty, I have a lot of work to do.”

Bor grunted and waved a hand carelessly; he didn’t much care what she did.

Nal gave him a bow and quickly walked away. Daianya and Anima exchanged bewildered looks as Loki and Bestla silently watched her go.

****

Nal was not feeling well. She’d been eating her fish, like normal, when suddenly she’d felt a sensation she had never felt before. The only way she could describe it was that the fish suddenly felt… extra fishy? It started tasting less like fish and more like scales and gills and a fast flipping tail.

It tasted like what a _fish_ was, not what its flesh was.

Feeling more than a little disturbed, Nal headed back to her rooms. She’d been working hard in her garden lately, and told herself that she was probably just really tired.

She swallowed a glass of water which produced no weird sensations, much to her relief, and got changed for an early night.

So Loki was back. He had a habit of disappearing for months at a time, always returning with wild stories and exotic presents. Now that Nal was almost of age she was hoping that she might have an adventure or two of her own. Asgard was home: beautiful; comforting; warm; and familiar, but Nal had, in the last year or two, been unable to shake a nagging feeling that she needed to move around and see a bit more of the realms. 

Maybe on his next adventure, Loki would consider taking her along?

Nal lay in bed and sighed. She wasn’t tired. Not even a little bit. Her stomach appeared to have settled down again, although she still felt oddly… aware of the fish she had eaten.

She tossed off the covers and went to her little dining table, on which was a bowl of fruit. She grabbed an apple and bit into it.

She got precisely three chews into her mouthful before the same sensation returned, but instead of fish she could taste apple, more apple than apple had ever tasted before. She could taste sunlight, and determination to grow large and strong, she could taste branches and leaves and seeds.

She spat the mouthful out and gagged. This was not normal. This was not how food was supposed to be.

She drank some more water and bit her lip in thought. Going to the healers would be useless. They knew almost nothing about Jotun physiology, and cared even less. Like with most of her troubles, Nal was going to have to talk to her grandmother.

Bestla was at the feast though, which meant, for tonight at least, Nal was going to go hungry.

She scowled at the thought.

“I hate going hungry,” she muttered under her breath.

_Do you want me to bring you some cake?_

Anima, always trying to be helpful.

 _No Ani, I’m alright, I just have something to figure out._ Nal thought back.

She glanced over at the small collection of books on her bookshelf. Most of her volumes were about plants and gardening, but over the years she’d taken every book on Jotnir and Jotunheim from the library and moved them up to her room. No one had ever noticed them missing, or asked for them back, no one had ever really cared what happened to the books about the Jotnir.

With a sigh, Nal grabbed the most detailed one on Jotnir as a species and started to read. Maybe there was something in the volumes that could give her a clue.

****

Nidavellir, the workshop of the Dwarves, rang with the sound of metal on metal. It always did, even in the darkest hours of the night. There was always someone busy trying a new enchantment, or a new technique.

Eitri, King of the Dwarves and Master Forger, sat at his workbench and slowly outlined the patterning for what would be his next project. He was also listening, albeit with only half an ear, to the complaints of Brokkr and Sindri, his brothers and frequent collaborators.

“I am aware that they still have not paid,” he said at last, glancing up at them, “and I intend to approach them and ask why not as soon as the year is over and I have time to travel, but the outrage you express, brothers, is misplaced. Loki, of all of them, _has_ paid, not in the conventional sense but certainly in the wider one.”

“Loki promised us that Bor would pay, he spoke so smoothly and promised so mightily. He’s the worst liar of them all,” Brokkr said.

“You sewed his mouth shut,” Eitri reminded him.

“That’s the _first_ part of the payment, not the whole thing!” Brokkr protested.

“That is the whole part of _his_ payment, and he has paid it. Our efforts should be on obtaining the gold we were promised for the forging of Gungnir and Mjolnir.”

“He took the stitches out, you know,” Sindri said.

“Then you two should have used stronger thread,” Eitri countered. “He never agreed not to remove them after it was done, so you can hardly be surprised that he immediately tried.”

“That was uru wire! The only way he could have taken them out is to rip through his own lips, but do you see any scars? Does anything mark him as damaged? No! Somehow he tricked us with an illusion, or a fake. He must pay, _properly_ pay!” Sindri cried in anger.

Brokkr growled and threw up his hands. “You are far too forgiving, brother! They cheated us out of our gold and their trickster mocks us from afar! I’m telling you, if you don’t confront them then I will, and I will not be diplomatic, no! I will take what is ours and I will make them regret making promises that they never intended to keep!”

“Be calm, brother, I have already begun preparations for our travel to Asgard,” Eitri said, finishing his drawing and sitting back. “I have commissioned a ship from Berling to take us there. It will be done in a year.”

“Why not the Bifrost?” Brokkr asked.

“Because the Bifrost is how the common people travel. It moves armies and trade goods. I am a king, of equal status to Bor, but he is the kind of man who needs reminding,” Eitri said.

“We should take one of the older ships,” Sindri said. “Why wait?”

“Because it has been fifty years since we built a ship, not since the war started and we turned all of our attention to making weapons for the various armies of the nine realms, our ships are old and broken down, I do not wish us to appear to be beggars at King Bor’s table, he will see us as easy to dismiss,” Eitri said patiently, “We have waited this long, and petitioned them multiple times, another year will not be the reason they change their minds. I will request the gold from Prince Odin first of all, he is far more level-headed compared to his father and, I’m sure, be on our side in all this. He will be our ally in our request.”

“And if he isn’t?” Sindri asked. “If he is as bad as his father?”

“Then we will make another ally,” Eitri said with a smile. “Tell me, what do you think of this?”

They came closer and examined the drawing. 

“It’s very complicated,” Brokkr said, “a gauntlet?”

“Yes,” Eitri said. “I received a request a few weeks ago from an anonymous source, although they must be a very powerful being if they expect to wield what they have requested, and I know that they are extremely upset with Asgard, as they specifically wanted something that could withstand Asgardian weapons. So if King Bor does not pay us, then sadly we will be forced to side with… others.”

****

Morning rose on Asgard and the sunlight brightened the street and houses alike. Nal blinked sleepily and stretched out, basking in the sliver of sunshine that peeked through the curtains and shone across her chin.

She had to go and see her grandmother today and ask her whether she knew why Nal couldn’t seem to eat anything without it tasting strangely. The books had been extremely unhelpful, although very informative if what you wanted was to kill a Jotnir with a single, well-placed stab. Asgard’s palace was filled with warriors led by a warrior king, and they struggled to find value in anything else.

There was always a chance that the public libraries had better volumes, but that required a ride into the city and Nal didn’t like the way she was stared at, and so tended to avoid going unless she absolutely had to. 

She could hear the sound of the water pipes and knew without having to check that Daianya was awake, as Anima preferred to sleep in as much as possible, as a rule.

Nal yawned and sat up; reaching behind her she pulled the curtain open and bathed the whole room in light.

“Morning plants,” she said. 

There was no response, which was good because she hadn’t been expecting one.

She climbed out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown just as there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

It was Kayla, the servant, who had a tray in her arms.

“Good morning, your Grace,” she said in a distant but polite tone.

She didn’t like Nal, or rather, like many people, she didn’t know enough about Nal and didn’t want to learn. She did her job and was always professional, but Nal could tell that Kayla, like all but a few of the palace servants, would rather serve just about anyone else.

Despite this, Nal smiled at her and thanked her for delivering breakfast. Nal was always polite if she could be, too many people already didn’t like her for no reason, she wasn’t about to actually give them one.

She sat down and waited as Kayla knocked on the two other doors and made two other deliveries. A moment after she had left, Nal’s door opened and Daianya, freshly showered and with a giant cloud of untamed curly red hair surrounding her head, came in carrying her tray. Anima followed her, still in her nightdress with her eyes partly closed and her face screwed up against the light.

“Good morning,” Nal said.

“Ugh,” Anima replied, putting her tray down and flopping into the nearest seat.

Daianya’s movements were more graceful, and she slid into her own seat and uncovered her tray.

“What happened to you last night?” she asked.

“Yeah, Nal, you went all funny,” Anima said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“My food tasted odd,” Nal said.

“There was mountains of different food to choose from, you didn’t have to leave,” Anima said. 

“All food tasted odd,” Nal clarified. “In fact, I’m not convinced that I am going to be able to eat this.”

The other two both watched her closely as she picked up her fork.

“It’s rude to stare,” Nal said.

“We know,” Anima said, not budging.

Nal sighed and put a piece of bacon in her mouth.

Then she immediately spat it out again into her napkin.

“What did it taste like?” Anima asked.

“Bristles, and tusks, and strength… and a good sense of smell,” Nal said.

“Those aren’t flavours,” Anima said.

“They are now,” Nal replied, putting down her fork. “I’ll speak to Grandmother today and see if she knows anything.”

“Let us know what she says, you can’t stop eating entirely,” Daianya said.

Nal looked down at her plate. There was no power in the whole realm that would make her try her eggs right now. “I might,” she said.

“I’m going to have a close look at the tesseract today,” Anima said.

“I thought it was a cube?” Daianya asked.

“Me too, but I had a quick look at it last night and, no, it’s a tesseract. I have no idea what it does though, but whatever it is, it does it very powerfully. That thing is extraordinary,” Anima said.

“I am to report to General Solveig this morning to discuss joining the Valkyrie,” Daianya said. 

“I thought Father didn’t want you to?” Nal said.

“He didn’t, but King Bor does, and once we turn twenty he can order me to. Father doesn’t get a say,” Daianya said.

“You’re not twenty yet,” Anima pointed out. 

“King Bor decided I was close enough,” Daianya said.

“Are we having a feast to celebrate our coming of age?” Anima asked.

“Probably, the king does love them very much,” Nal said, “maybe there’ll be dancing.”

“Maybe there’ll be cake,” Anima added.

“No doubt there will be both,” Daianya said.

Nal, distracted by the conversation, took a mouthful of juice. She then very daintily spat it back into her cup.

“That was a mistake,” she said quietly. “Big mistake; I can taste root growth.”

“That’s just weird,” Anima said.

****

After breakfast, Nal made her way down to the cool under-chambers of the palace. She wasn’t feeling too great, two missed meals weren’t the worst thing she’d ever dealt with but her stomach didn’t approve and she was starting to get a few aches of complaint.

“Grandmother? Are you here?” she called out, entering the quiet, dim-lit chambers of Queen Bestla.

“I am here, dear, come on in,” Bestla called out.

Nal entered the room and saw her grandmother sitting by the reflecting pool in the middle of the living area.

“How are you this morning, my dear? I didn’t think I’d see you today, aren’t you still in the middle of planting your garden for the spring?”

Nal smiled. Of all the people on Asgard, Bestla was the only one, other than her two sisters, who took an interest in her activities. And enough of an interest to remember when planting and harvesting took place.

“I have something to ask you which couldn’t wait,” Nal said.

“Come and sit with me and share some wine,” Bestla said.

“That’s… the issue,” Nal said. “Last night at the feast when I ate my fish it started to taste strange, really strange. It wasn’t the fish; it’s happening with everything I try to eat. It all tastes strange.”

Bestla smiled kindly. “Strange in what way?” she asked, in a tone of someone who was expecting a certain answer.

“Like… I don’t really know... like I could taste things that weren’t flavours. Like I could taste what they were, not what they… I don’t know how to describe it,” Nal said. “Does it have anything to do with being Jotun?”

“As a matter of fact it does,” Bestla said, looking happy. “I have been waiting for you to start experiencing this for about four years.”

“Really?” Nal asked.

“Well, based on where you were with your physical development about four years ago, yes I started to expect it, but I suppose aging like a mortal when you aren’t one has slowed down some things and accelerated others. At least it is finally happening, I’m so happy for you.”

“…Why?” Nal asked.

Bestla clasped her hands together. “Because you are finally ready to begin gathering.”

Nal shook her head. “I’m going to need you to start from the beginning,” she said, sinking down onto the cushions by the pool.

Bestla nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Do you know why Jotun are often rumoured to be cannibals?”

“Because Hela is cruel?” Nal said, thrown by the question.

“Your sister is indeed, extremely cruel, but it is not just her who makes these assertions. Others do too, do you know why?”

Nal shook her head.

“Because we eat people. Sometimes the simplest explanation for a rumour is that it is the truth.”

“What?!” Nal said.

“We eat people, or, the women do. You know that Jotun are famed for their adaptability and shape-changing? Well, we women can read the life-code of every living thing, people, animals, plants, even bacteria in sufficient quantities. We can read it through touch, although certain parts of the body are far better at it, the mouth, for example, and the vagina.”

Nal stared at her in horror.

“I’m going to eat people?!” she shrieked.

Bestla sighed gently. “Now dear, it’s perfectly natural. If you don’t want to eat _people_ then you don’t have to, you can read their suitability through the skin on your hands, but with other things you won’t be able to help it, you need to eat, and everything has a life-code.”

“I’m already disliked by the vast majority of Asgardians, I don’t need them to think I’m going to go around eating people!” she yelled, standing back up.

“Then you might want to lower your voice, dear,” Bestla said. “The rumours may be true, but they don’t know that for certain, no one other than Jotnir know for certain how we create life.”

Nal just shook her head. “This is unbelievable. No wonder they call us monsters.”

“Now that’s enough of that,” Bestla snapped. “You are not a monster, you are a Jotun, and there is nothing wrong with being one of those either. You have shape-changer code within you, you can do great things, have great sons and powerful daughters – ”

“I don’t want great sons and powerful daughters, I want this to go away,” Nal said.

“It won’t. Not ever. It is who you are,” Bestla said sadly. “Please listen, there is much I need to tell you now that you are truly grown.”

Nal drew herself up into a formal stance.

“Thank you for the information, Grandmother, I shall be going now,” she said, and turned away quickly.

Bestla watched her go with sad eyes. It was hard being a Jotun in a place like Asgard. But Nal needed to know her heritage, more so than any of the other girls. She needed to know who she was.

Hopefully she’d think things over and come back to learn more. Hopefully she’d get used to the idea and learn to embrace it. It wasn’t like she had a choice.


	8. On the Subject of Seidr

Daianya stood in the training yard off to the side of the crowd of children who had come to train. And they were children, all of them looked about five years old, although they were far older than that, and far older than her. It was a strange thing to know that they had begun their training before Daianya was even born, and now here she was, twice their size and four times as mature.

“Your Grace.”

Daianya turned and bowed her head respectfully at General Solveig, who bowed to her in turn.

“I’ve been sent to train with you, to join the Valkyrie,” Daianya said.

General Solveig nodded. “So I was told last night. Are you anything like your sister?”

“Hela?” Daianya guessed. “No General, I am nothing like her.”

“Good. She has no discipline; maybe you will do better. But this is not a commitment to take up lightly. This is not a hobby, or a game. I expect you to train hard and learn fast, doubly so because you are behind everyone else your age… well… everyone at your stage of development anyway.”

Daianya nodded quickly. “Yes General, I will train hard, I swear.”

“Good. Pick up a sword from the rack and join the group,” Solveig said.

Daianya looked at the group again; they were tiny. She could easily pick any one of them up and throw them through the air without much of an effort. Did the General really want her to train with them?

Maybe it was a test? To see if she could obey orders?

“Yes General,” she said.

She picked up one of the remaining swords from the rack; it was too small and too light. It was barely more than a knife in her hand. Nevertheless, she avoided sending a look of disbelief at General Solveig and instead stood awkwardly beside the thirty or so small children as they stood gathered together in a group.

“Right,” Solveig said. “Let’s begin. Pair off and begin your drills, high, middle, low, let me see how you are progressing.”

Daianya looked to her right at the nearest child. The child smothered a laugh and ran away from her to find a friend.

Children were always honest, and there was no denying that the situation was somewhat humiliating.

“I’ll fight you,” said a voice from behind her. It was high and sounded very young, although rather determined and a little bit proud.

Daianya turned around and had her suspicions confirmed. The child before her barely came up to her waist. She had brown skin and hair, and a very determined expression.

“Okay,” Daianya said and raised her sword.

“Not like that,” the child snapped. “You have to hold it like this.” She held out her arm and showed off her sword grip. “It stops it from being jarred from your hand. If you hold it like _that_ then you will drop it and have to pick it up, and then I’ll hit you on the bum!”

She sounded extraordinarily happy about the idea. Daianya dutifully adjusted her grip and gave the child a smile.

“Thank you for the advice,” she said. “I’ll be sure not to let my bum point anywhere in your direction.”

The child laughed and almost dropped her own sword in her distraction, but pulled herself together with a snort. Daianya held her sword out defensively.

The child swung her sword at a high position. Daianya blocked it easily. The middle position was equally easy, although the low one did cause her to bend slightly.

The child did not seem discouraged and swung over and over again, high, middle, low, just as she had been instructed to do. Daianya caught each blow without effort.

“Switch places!” Solveig called.

The child took up a defensive stance. Daianya suppressed a sigh and began to swing, her high swing sailed over the girl’s head, her middle one was only caught because the girl chose to hold her sword up high instead of ducking slightly, only her low blow gave the girl any real target to block.

Solveig came over to watch them.

“Not bad, good grip,” she said to Daianya.

“My partner taught me,” Daianya said, still swinging.

The child giggled in response, but quickly stopped under Solveig’s serious gaze.

Solveig turned back to Daianya. “Some of our enemies are quite a bit smaller than we are, and it pays to know how to account for that when fighting. In order to bring you up to speed as quickly as possible I want you to train with all three levels of trainees, as well as my second in command, Commander Gunhild. I will work out a training schedule for you after today.”

“Yes General,” Daianya said.

She was right, it _had_ been a test.

“You will also need to begin building up your muscles, you have rather soft arms and I doubt your stamina is particularly high, you need to work on that.”

“Yes General.”

It was true. Daianya had been swinging her sword for only ten minutes and she was already starting to feel tired. By contrast, her partner was still bouncing on the balls of her little feet with barely contained energy.

“Your bedroom is in one of the towers, is it not? Start taking the stairs, every time, I want you in shape as quickly as possible.”

“Yes… General…”

“And you’ll need to take up swimming, it’s good for the lungs and helps build further stamina.”

“Yes… Gen…ral…”

Solveig smiled. “You can stop now,” she said.

Daianya stopped swinging. A thin sheen of sweat was already on her forehead and she was breathing heavily. It was a little embarrassing how quickly she had tired.

“I win,” the child said. “I’m not even a little bit tired.”

“Go and find another partner, Brunnhilde,” Solveig said.

Brunnhilde ran off and Solveig turned to face Daianya, who was trying to catch her breath as quickly as she could.

“A training regime like the one you need for the army or the Valkyrie is not easy, your Grace,” she said. “It takes a great deal of commitment. I will not be easy on you either. If you join us then you may see battle, and it is my job to ensure that everyone I send out to fight for Asgard is as strong and capable as everyone else. These little girls will not be little forever, one day they will fight beside you, and you will protect each other. Do you understand?” 

Daianya nodded. “I do, General, I will do whatever you ask,” she said.

Solveig nodded. “I’m glad to hear it, it means you and I will not have any problems.”

“Did Hela cause problems?” Daianya asked.

Solveig just tilted her head slightly. “What do you think?”

Daianya just bowed her head. 

****

To say that Anima’s room looked as though a bomb had exploded in it was to severely overstate the destructive power of the average bomb. The bed was buried under a mountain of clothes. The closet, where the clothes ought to be, was filled with boxes and jars of magical ingredients, and the floor, as well as every available surface, was covered in spell books and magical scrolls. The walls were impossible to see beneath the many charts and posters filled with notes that were pinned up over every surface.

Anima’s education had been somewhat haphazard over the years. Most teachers had not seen much point in educating someone who would be gone in century’s time, so they concentrated on the other two girls far more, leaving Anima to learn as much or as little as she wanted.

Luckily she had found interests quite early on in her schooling life which required, at the very least, learning to read and write, and so she had gone with her sisters every day to the schoolroom in order to learn what she needed, so that she might then in turn learn what she wanted.

She had turned out to be extremely good at mathematics.

Magic, in her opinion, was just maths that the universe didn’t want anyone else to see. Everything eventually came down to numbers if you thought about it for long enough. Travelling faster than light was possible because of the right numbers, building enormous palaces was possible because of the right numbers, and the building of the wall that King Bor wanted so badly was because of the right numbers.

Anima had cast her eyes over the wall as it was being built and made a few calculations of her own. It was a truly impressive masterpiece of work, capable, when finished, of withstanding enormous power greater even than the weapon that had killed her mother. It had taken almost seven years to reach the point it was at now, but had remained unfinished for over a year since the builder had died.

Anima was pretty sure she knew how to finish it, but King Bor was impossible to get an audience with, and her father was… kind and loving, but ultimately not very good at listening. To him, Anima was still that little girl who so loved to ride her pony. Every time she brought up something impressive or demonstrated in-depth knowledge about a subject he acted surprised, and after so many years of surprising him, she given up trying to convince him that her knowledge and abilities were not a series of constant flukes. 

Frankly, she was surprised herself that he hadn’t asked for the tesseract. As indulgent as he was regarding her magic, and as much as he understood on an intellectual level that she was almost his equal in the seidr arts, he didn’t _really_ see it. For him, magic was serious and important, but his opinion of it for her was that it was trivial and a hobby.

Although in fairness she had brought some of that on herself. Anima’s seidr teachers had all stressed the natural gifts of mortals when it came to magic, but their lessons had been accompanied by warning after warning. No one truly understood what a life-force was, or why mortals had it and other races did not. They knew it limited a mortal’s life severely, and that, no matter how good the medical care or the spells of eternal youth were, when the life-force was extinguished, the mortal died. They were convinced that the great feats of magic performed by mortals could only be achieved by burning their life-force, which explained why they died so young, and had cautioned Anima repeatedly against exerting herself.

There were stories of old about mortal who _had_ extended their life-force through magical means, but Anima had been completely resistant to every one of them that had been tried. Her teachers and the healers had put it down to her being wholly mortal, without a drop of any Asgardian, or elf, or dwarf in her body. The current thinking was that the magic needed something other than mortal life-code to latch on to in order to work, and Anima was out of luck.

And so, instead, she had mastered the art of casting large spells with as little seidr as possible. It sometimes took her up to ten minutes to complete a working, but she used only a fraction of the power of what other people did. But very few people could see that, in their eyes she just took a long time to cast anything of note.

The only one who ever took her studies seriously was Uncle Loki, but then he always had, and he was always encouraging her to cut loose and do great things. Unfortunately, his cheerful encouragement was not enough for Anima to fully let go of the fear her teachers had put into her, and she remained, primarily, a researcher of spells, rather than a true caster.

Right now she was examining the tesseract with a critical eye and, more importantly, a critical brain. It was not a weapon, at least, not a conventional one. No doubt it could be used as a weapon if it ended up in a pair of creative enough hands. But as far as she could see it was some kind of portal creator.

It hung in the air, held by just a whisper of her magic, and twisted, turned, and occasionally sparked in the air as she prodded and probed it, carefully examining each interaction with her seidr, stopping every time something interesting happened in order to make notes.

She had never seen anything like it before. Portal creators existed, all the space ships were fitted with one, but this was something else. It twisted in her sight and seemed to be, at least in part, permanently on the move while remaining in the same place.

“What are you, exactly?” she muttered under her breath as she spun her magic around it, trying to see it from every possible angle.

Uncle Loki had been right, it was powerful, scarily so, possibly even more so than even he had realised. Normal portal creators had finite power, and had to be recharged over and over as they were used up. But Anima wasn’t entirely certain that this tesseract could be drained even if she wanted to do it. It seemed to continuously generate power at a phenomenal rate.

Generate, but not hold. She could see the power in her mind, pulling away from the source, dissipating when it found nothing to latch on to. It was utterly fascinating. She kind of wanted to set up an experiment to see whether the power could be drained faster than it could be generated, but something like that would take a massive amount of complex engineering to build.

She carefully tugged at one tendril of power, drawing it into herself and sending it through to one of her many crystals. The power gave her a strong sensation of movement, but, with her eyes squinted shut in concentration, she stripped it of its aspect and turned it back into raw seidr. 

Seidr, or magic, was a raw natural force; however it rarely appeared as such to those who used it. Every magic user had areas of talent, or experience in one thing over another, and magic tended to take on aspects of the user as they channelled it through their bodies. Odin’s magic was golden and rich in colour, whereas the witches who lived at the edge of town tended towards dark blue and grey. Uncle Loki’s magic would appear as both green and red, but rarely at the same time, and still others would show silver, or orange, or any of the colours of the rainbow.

There were those who studied the phenomenon quite closely, and whole books had been written about what the colours really meant. Green was usually attributed to growth and life, whereas red was typically seen as chaotic, and black was seen as destructive. Users whose magic was orange nearly always came from a spiritual background, and gold was more frequently seen from intellectuals and scholars.

And it was that unintentional addition of personal aspects that made some spells impossible for certain spell casters but other spells as easy as breathing. Those whose magic shows destructive tendencies could blow up a building with a whispered word and a casual wave of their hand, but they would struggle, and nearly always fail, to make a garden grow to maturity from scattered seeds. Odin was brilliant at mind magic and extremely good with illusions, but he couldn’t make himself fly. Uncle Loki on the other hand could bounce through the air on platforms of red, but his ability to convince people of his outrageous lies was entirely natural and unassisted by magic.

If anyone who actually knew anything about magic had been watching Anima’s spell-craft over the years, other than Uncle Loki who always paid attention even when he said that he wasn’t, they would have been surprised to see that Anima’s magic was, for the most part, completely invisible. 

Sometimes there was a ripple in the air, but that was as visible as Anima’s power ever got. To her, magic did not have to be tainted by anything, and anyone who let it become so (so, everyone) was just not trying hard enough. These days she casually stripped aspects attached to magic automatically, which made casting her own spells so much easier, as raw magic could be applied to anything.

It only took a few seconds for the crystal to fill, and the power level of the tesseract remained unchanged.

Anima raised both her eyebrows. That particular crystal was capable of holding enough power to light up the whole palace for a month.

If it was some kind of portal-device, then it had no obvious limit, and if it had no limit then it could quite possibly transport the user anywhere in the universe.

Anima looked up from the tesseract and glanced at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone to come in, but it was still a habit of hers from childhood whenever she was about to do something that she probably shouldn’t.

She pressed her magic further into the tesseract. There had to be a way of activating it, and a way of controlling the destination. If she could figure that out then she could go anywhere, she could even go to Midgard, to see the place where her mother had been born.

Anima had always wanted to see Midgard. She had asked her father if she might visit about a dozen times a month when growing up, but he had always said no. He said that it wasn’t what she might expect, that it was very different from Asgard, and that with her mother gone there was no point, etc. etc. He always had some excuse, and finally one day he had told her that Midgard was forbidden to be visited by order of the King, which at the time Anima had suspected was a made up rule, and was surprised to find out when she got older still that it was legitimate. What Odin had consistently failed to do though was explain the rule to her satisfaction.

But if she could figure out how to use the tesseract then of course she would have to test it, and of course the testing should be done on a large scale. After all, if it could move things all the way from one realm to another in a single portal, then King Bor could use it to move his army about, or supplies, or… something, whatever, what mattered was that she solve the mystery before her father realised just what Uncle Loki had given her.

****

Three days after Hela had left the feast, bound for Knowhere and a date with a Titan and murder, her ship shot out of the wormhole and decelerated rapidly. Inside the cabin, several of the men swallowed hard in an effort not to be sick.

Hela felt no such illness, and certainly no sympathy.

“Jump again,” she said.

“We need to let the portal generator recharge,” the pilot said. “That last jump finally drained it, but it’s already started recharging, look, the background magic is nice and strong here. We can start jumping again in another two days.”

Hela made a sound of disgust and rolled her eyes as she pushed herself out of her seat and headed into the rear of the ship in search of a drink. 

Space travel was boring and overly complicated. The Bifrost was so much cleaner and elegant, in her opinion. Unfortunately, being a natural phenomenon, it only worked within the branches of Yggdrasil unless provided with artificial help. The Bifrost mechanism which the Asgardian engineers had built allowed them to manipulate the natural Bifrost energy to travel anywhere that they wanted, but even that had flaws. It needed something to target, or else it would become scattered and throw any travellers out without warning. And so, any Asgardian travelling to worlds beyond Yggdrasil’s branches would take a beacon for the Bifrost mechanism to lock on to and bury it somewhere in the surface, adding that world to the vast number already in the mechanism’s star-map.

The spaceship travelled by creating an artificial wormhole which then pulled the ship to the other side. There had been talk among the space-faring races of building a giant network of permanent wormholes, tentatively named the Universal Neural Teleportation Network, but so far it was all talk.

Unfortunately Knowhere was not on the list of places that had been mapped, and so they had to take a spaceship. Hela poured herself a cup and swallowed it all in one gulp. It was so frustrating to be a pioneer. A conqueror, now that was exciting, that was _worth_ being in a cramped, uncomfortable, slow, space ship. 

The Titan had better still be there after all this. Hela had tangled with several Titans of note during the war, and she had her suspicions regarding which one had managed to escape.

She walked back to the ship’s control room. 

It had taken the better part of three days to get this far, and Knowhere was still supposed to be eight more jumps, and ten more days, away.

“Is there any way to speed this up?” she snapped, already knowing the answer.

“Not unless the dwarves come up with something new,” the pilot said.

Hela scowled and headed away again, this time to her cramped little quarters at the back of the ship. Ten more days, ten more, and then the fun would begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this story is set 5000 years in the past, even though space travel is definitely possible, some of the technology which makes it easy by our time is still being invented, thus it takes longer for Hela (and others) to travel to places compared to the Guardians of the Galaxy.


	9. You Are Who You Are

Nal did not feel well. She had not eaten in three days. Every piece of food she tried had revealed its life code. She couldn’t just taste things anymore; her world was forever changed.

But even worse was now happening. True to her grandmother’s word, her skin was now starting to send her signals as well.

Her cotton dress felt like stalks and pollen, her leather shoes felt heavy and strong, with a hint of grass-cravings and a touch of horns. Her plants, so very loved and cherished, had started feeling like growth and burrowing. Until now she had always liked her flowering vines, but she’d never truly appreciated what it felt like to _very slowly_ chase the sun. 

Utterly miserable and horribly confused, Nal sat in her bathtub and hugged her knees. At least porcelain did not have a life-code, neither did water. As long as she staying in the bath tub for the rest of her life she was safe.

There was a knock on her door.

“Go away!” she called out. 

It was probably a servant anyway, and it wasn’t like she was going to eat the food they brought her.

“It’s me, the God of Meddling,” called Loki’s voice from outside her suite. “Anima said you weren’t well, and that you hadn’t eaten anything for a few days.”

Nal sighed. Her condition was causing concern among her sisters. But, as linked as they were, they still couldn’t fully understand what she was going through. She could tell them her thoughts, but not her experiences, not as she felt them.

“I’m fine,” she called out.

“You are also lying,” he replied, his voice sounding almost in her ear, making her jump slightly.

Nal rolled her eyes.

“Magic is not appreciated, and I doubt you can help,” she said.

“If I had to guess,” said Loki from beyond the door but still in her ear, “I’d say it has something to do with being Jotun.”

Nal slumped deeper into the water. “Not exactly a stretch,” she said. “Most of my problems come from being Jotun.”

“Have you forgotten that I am also Jotun? Perhaps I can understand a bit better than all these other folk.”

Nal sighed. She felt utterly exhausted. “All right then, you can come in, but I’m in the bath.”

“I’ll sit on the other side of the curtain, shall I?” Loki asked, entering her room and making his way to the bathroom. 

Nal took a breath and stuck her head under the water. She floated there for a moment, before pulling herself back up to breathe. It was an effort; she was really tired.

“Sooooo, you are rapidly approaching adulthood and you’ve suddenly stopped eating. Anima said that _you_ said that everything tasted wrong,” Loki said, this time from the other side of the bath curtain instead of in her ear.

“That about sums it up,” Nal said.

“It’s the life-code thing, isn’t it?” Loki asked sympathetically.

“Grandmother said it was about having children,” Nal said.

“I have given birth you know, recently in fact.”

“To a horse.”

“Yes, I made a horse, and before that I fathered a snake and before that a wolf. I make interesting children,” Loki said.

Nal closed her eyes. She really wanted to sleep.

“And the reason I make interesting children is because I am Jotun,” Loki continued. “It’s part of who we are.”

Nal pulled a face. “Grandmother said Jotnir eat people,” she said.

“I mean, we _can_ , it’s a very efficient way of getting access to the life-code, but we don’t have to, I prefer fucking, myself.”

Nal shook her head. “I’m too tired to deal with this,” she said.

“That’s your own fault. But never fear, for I have brought you something that tastes utterly disgusting but contains absolutely no life-code at all. It’s a sludge I made myself that contains all the nutrients and energy you need without using a single plant or animal, just pure raw materials extracted from the primordial swamp.”

“Sounds horrible,” Nal said.

“Oh it is, but it will help you to feel better, and then we can talk,” Loki said. He held a cup around the edge of the curtain. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing when it comes to primordial sludge.”

“God of it, are you?” Nal leaned forwards and took the cup. She sniffed it and tried not to gag. “No life code?” she confirmed.

“None, whatsoever,” Loki promised.

Nal forced herself to take a mouthful. It was, indeed, disgusting. But she didn’t taste any wriggling, or crawling, or the sensation of legs and antennae. She finished the drink and followed it with some water from the bath to wash down the taste.

“Now can we talk?” Loki asked.

“Fine,” Nal sighed. “Tell me why this is happening to me.”

“Jotun tradition dictates that when a woman is born, she stays with her mother until she is old enough to begin ‘gathering’, which your grandmother and I thought would start happening when you were about 14, based on your physical development. But it appears to have been delayed, no doubt due to your unusual aging circumstances. Gathering begins after you develop the ability to read the life-code from other beings. You are literally expected to ‘gather’ as many codes as possible, from which you will create your children.”

Nal blinked slowly. “I’m not following.”

“There are a lot of myths regarding the Jotnir species, that they eat people, that they can change their shape, that they can live in the coldest places but sneak up on you from within the heart of a volcano, among others. What you need to understand, my Princess, is that all of those myths are true depending on who you talk to.”

“I know about the eating people one,” Nal said bitterly.

“Jotnir are life-givers,” Loki continued. “Each woman takes in as many different types of life-code as she can find and then uses it to create her children. Every child can have hundreds of different fathers. From her gatherings she takes the best of everything and builds her child to be exactly what she wants it to be. There are large Jotnir as tall as this tower, there are Jotnir with gills and fish tails, Jotnir who are part horse, Jotnir who are as tiny as a butterfly, each perfectly crafted by their mother as per her intentions and will. Each woman will have hundreds, sometimes over a thousand children, all of whom will live and serve her as their queen until her death, then they will scatter across Jotunheim and travel to meet other women, who may or may not accept them for a night or two as a part of their own gatherings.”

Nal sat quietly in the tub. She was so still the water had stopped lapping at the edges and was utterly silent.

“So, any questions so far?” Loki asked.

“Why doesn’t Father have a thousand siblings?” Nal asked.

“You will have to ask your Grandmother,” Loki said. “In fact, I think you need to go and speak to her properly, she was very concerned about your reaction.”

“She told me Jotnir eat people. I mean, that was the way she _opened_ her explanation,” Nal said.

“Fair point, she probably should have led with the ‘every woman is her own queen’,” Loki conceded.

“So what were you made to be?” Nal asked.

There was silence from the other side of the curtain for a moment, long enough to make Nal uncomfortable.

“She made me to be me,” Loki said at last, “and I’d say I have fulfilled my purpose exceedingly well.”

Nal shifted in the water. She already felt slightly better as the sludge gave her a bit of energy, but only a little.

“So I’m expected to… gather?” she said. “And if I want to have a child then I can just… build one? Without having sex at all?”

“That’s the gist of it; although sex is damn fun, most of the time.”

“And the life-code sensation will never go away?”

“No, but you will get used to it. You _can_ still taste things underneath the life-code, you know, and as you grow used to it you will be able to ignore it, for the most part,” Loki said. 

“So when you _made_ the horse…?” Nal started.

“I literally built him from the code of the Jotun Builder’s steed and a bunch of other horses I’ve ridden, petted, and occasionally fucked over the centuries, with just a sprinkling of spider for added benefit. And a damn fine horse he is too, as fast as a flyer and with god-level stamina. Just because he’s a horse doesn’t mean that I didn’t build the best that I could.”

“And this is a secret from the rest of the nine realms?”

“The rest of the universe, not that most of them are interested,” Loki confirmed. “The truth is, my Princess, that Jotnir are quite a bit more exceptional than people believe we are. We can ‘shape’ ice, except you and I both know that we actually create it, which is a very particular type of Jotun magic that I’m not convinced even your talented sister can cast.”

“She could if she wanted to,” Nal said, “Anima can cast anything if she actually _wants_ to.”

“Nevertheless, _most_ spellcasters cannot even begin to fathom it, and yet we can all do it. We are adaptable as well; you and I live quite comfortably on Asgard when by all rights we should be suffering from heatstroke all the time. Jotnir evolve in real time, my Princess, if we are thrown into a new environment then, if it doesn’t kill us outright, we will begin to adapt to it. After a few days in Muspelheim you would feel as though it’s a pleasant spring day. A few days on Jotunheim and you will feel the same way.”

“And the shape changing?” Nal asked.

“Shape changing is just a deliberate and rapid rewriting of the code with some added magic – regular magic – to help the body catch up with the new instructions. Not every Jotun can shape-change, but then not every Jotun has regular magic.”

“You do.”

“I do indeed.”

“So when you turned into a horse you changed your own life-code on purpose?”

“Yes, it does take a little while to pull off successfully. Most Jotnir adaptability comes unconsciously as rapid evolution to external stimuli, but I was built to do it on purpose and at will.”

Nal pondered this information for a moment. “The King will not be happy if I start to gather,” she said. “He’s got some funny notions about princesses and sex, and there is no way he is going to appreciate me eating parts of his army.”

“You don’t have to eat the whole person, just bite off a finger,” Loki advised in a cheerful tone. “Do you feel a little bit better about things?” he added in a more gentle tone.

Nal sighed. “I suppose,” she said, “I don’t have much of a choice either way, but I suppose I’ll get used to it. It’ll just be another thing that sets me apart, but if it’s a secret from the rest of the nine realms then I don’t have to worry about people finding out and making fun of me for it.”

“They shouldn’t make fun of you anyway, you are a princess,” Loki said.

“You make fun of my grandfather all the time and he’s a king,” Nal pointed out.

“True, but I am the exception to any rule I do not care for,” Loki said.

Nal huffed in amusement. “I’m getting out now, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave the bathroom.”

“As you wish, my Princess,” Loki said.

Nal waited until the door closed and pulled back the curtain and climbed out of the tub. The cotton towel felt like pollen and sunshine, and her dressing gown felt like something ancient and totally unrecognisable.

“My dressing gown is wool,” she said, emerging from the bathroom. “Why doesn’t it feel like a sheep?

“Sheep life code doesn’t really make it as far as the wool, it gets broken up into bits inside the dead cell,” Loki said. He was sitting at her dining table and idly stroking the petals of one of her flowering plants. “But I bet you feel something else instead?”

Nal nodded, heading for her closet. “It feels a bit like sludge,” she said.

“That’s a ring life-code; a small bit of code that is spun together in a circle inside the cells. I have no idea why it exists, but it is far less likely to be damaged and it seems to have come from a time when Yggdrasil was really not putting in that much of an effort into its creations. Most early and primitive life forms have it, and all of the complex ones.”

Nal slipped behind a screen and started to dress. She tried to ignore the various feelings that her skin was sending her.

“Do you promise that this will get easier?” she asked, stepping out from behind the screen and reaching for a band with which to tie her hair back.

“I promise,” Loki said, picking one up and handing it to her. “It saddens me to see you reject who you are, when I know just how amazing Jotnir can be.” 

Nal took the band and gave him a look. “You don’t know what it’s like though, not truly. You aren’t blue, people here forget that you are a Jotun, you can pretend in a way I can’t.”

Loki stood up to take his leave. “I _can_ pretend, my Princess, but I _don’t_ pretend. I am proud of where I came from, and what I am. I hope one day you can be proud as well.”

Nal just shrugged.


	10. Growing Pains

Daianya reached the bottom of the tower and groaned. She had just spent all morning swinging a sword, running through obstacle courses, and lifting heavy weights. Her new regime to put her into fighting shape was exhausting and painful. She had just come from the Valkyrie healers, who had rubbed her muscles and applied hot and cold packs in turn to help with the pain, but now she had to go back to her room to get changed for lunch. 

Solveig had told her to take the stairs from now on, and she didn’t want to. There were _so many of them_. Daianya sighed heavily. The Valkyrie had always seemed so wonderful and heroic, and, at least intellectually, she had known that being a warrior involved a lot of physical activity, but the reality was neither wonderful nor heroic. Everything bloody hurt, and because she had been instructed to join them by the king she wasn’t allowed to quit.

With a long, drawn out moan, Daianya began to climb the stairs.

Maybe she could get Anima to go up and bring her things down to her? No, that was cheating. Daianya was too honest to cheat like that, and she knew that, _eventually_ things would get easier as her muscles grew and her body became fitter. She just wished she could skip to the part where that had already happened.

She made it as far as the first landing. Six more flights to go. Father had not been happy when he’d found out that King Bor had ordered her to join the Valkyrie. He had pinched his mouth together tightly in that way he had when he had something to say but already knew it would make no difference. Daianya didn’t want to disappoint him, but she had to do what she wanted to do in life, and now that she was on this path, no matter what, she was determined to finish it.

There was a slight rumble as the elevator went down past where she was resting on the stairs. Nal was inside, talking to Loki. _Are you alright?_ Daianya thought to Nal.

 _I’m not sure. Probably. Eventually,_ Nal thought back to her.

Daianya looked up at the remaining flights of stairs. “Wish I could fly,” she muttered, and started climbing again.

****

Anima was in the city at one of the best tailors in Asgard. She was being fitted for a new dress to wear to her coming-of-age feast. Bor had decided that it was going to be a great party with copious amounts of mead and wine, and all kinds of exotic foods. He had invited several representatives from the other realms, and they were all going to come and help celebrate.

Coming-of-age celebrations were a time of transition, when the new adult would be in charge of their own lives. They could come and go as they pleased; they could use the Bifrost and have adventures, they could start their own businesses, or get married.

At least, they could if they weren’t royalty. Anima and her sisters could still be directed at the whim of the king, he could refuse to let them do any of those things, or order them to do all of them. In theory he could do so to any citizen of Asgard, in practice he didn’t care enough about anyone else to bother, and so it was only the royal family and the higher levels of nobles that didn’t gain total freedom upon reaching maturity.

Still, King Bor had almost no interest in Anima at all, so in that way she was the luckiest of the lot. He neglected Nal almost as much, but had occasionally expressed the wish that she be as educated as Hela and Daianya, as she might be suited to be an ambassador to Jotunheim one day. The other two he had directed much more closely. Hela had excelled at killing things and joining the fray of battle, whereas Daianya he seemed to want to learn more about realm management.

In Anima’s opinion, King Bor had thing completely backwards. The firstborn should be learning about realm management because they would be ruling it one day, whereas the second born traditionally went into the army.

King Bor seemed to have caught on to that recently, what with ordering Daianya to join the Valkyrie.

And through it all, Anima got to do whatever she wanted, which was nice. Right now, what she wanted was a new dress with which to look dazzling and delightful at her coming-of-age feast. The noble sons of Asgard never looked twice at her, but then to them she had been crying for milk just two decades ago. It must be hard for them to see her as a grown woman. But the visitors had no such memories, and maybe, with all the feasting and wine and dancing, Anima might meet someone… nice, someone… charming, someone… male and a bit cute.

The tailor pinned the last pin in place and looked up at her. “That’s all I need, you Grace, we’ll take this off and I will have it ready in two weeks.”

Anima slipped out of the dress and pulled on her regular one.

“Do you think it will make me look grown up?” she asked the tailor.

“I think you will look stunning, your Grace,” she said.

Anima smiled. Stunning was good. She liked the idea of stunning.

“My sisters should be getting dresses too,” she said, the thought just occurring to her.

“Princess Nal ordered her dress a month ago,” the tailor said. “It’s finished and in the back room.”

“What colour is it?” Anima asked.

“Silver and white, your Grace, nothing like your green,” the tailor said with a smile.

“And Daianya?” 

“I have not seen her, your Grace, but I’m sure whoever is making her dress will do a fine job.”

Anima pulled a face. Green looked good with red hair, if Daianya had already ordered hers in green then the whole morning would be wasted. Anima did not want to look like she was copying her sister. Everyone paid more attention to Daianya already.

 _Daianya? What colour is your dress for our coming-of-age feast?_ Anima asked.

There was silence for a few seconds, then: _Shit. I haven’t ordered one._

Anima thought. _We’re the same size, just tell me what you want._

 _I don’t know, something grown up. The king will want us to look grown up,_ Daianya thought.

Anima smiled. _I’m on it,_ she thought happily. 

“Good news,” she said to the tailor with a grin. “We are _not_ done yet.”

****

Nal entered her grandmother’s rooms with a certain amount of trepidation. Bestla had always been Nal’s greatest supporter, and they had never really disagreed on anything major before. Nal felt a little embarrassed at running out on her.

Although, ‘you come from a race of people-eaters’ was a lot to take in.

“Grandmother?” she called out.

“I’m here, dear,” Bestla said, walking out from her dining room with a plate of little cakes. “Will you sit and talk to me?” she asked gently.

Nal sat awkwardly by the side of the reflecting pool and waited for Bestla to sit. “I spoke to Loki,” she said. “He didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with what you said.”

Bestla smiled gently. “I’m sorry, dear, I should have been more tactful. I was just so excited for you. A young woman, about to begin her gather, you are so wonderfully blessed.”

Nal picked up a cake and examined it, waiting with slight discomfort for the feelings to arrive.

“Wheat,” she said. “I’ve felt that one already, and eggs, chicken eggs, they feel like feathers and hard beaks and spurs on their legs.”

“Yes dear,” Bestla said encouragingly. “Spurs have a lot of benefit if you want to make a fighter.”

Nal put the cake down. “All my life I’ve been told that Jotnir are either big and strong and stupid, or Asgardian-sized, shifty, and clever. No one ever mentioned chicken spurs.”

“People see what they want to see, my dear. The Jotnir army is made up of big, strong and stupid because that is a very successful combination to have in your infantry. Many women will have strong children to start with because they can provide protection from others. Later on in life they will have their clever children, their talented children, their interesting children.”

“Loki _is_ Jotun then?” Nal asked. “He says he is but I’ve always wondered.”

“Everyone wonders, but I know his mother, and believe me, he is Jotun. He is also a little bit Asgardian, and a little bit elven, and a little pinch and scrap of every advantage that she could gather. I remember when he was just a boy on Jotunheim, and he was just as… interesting back then.”

Nal smiled, although she couldn’t imagine Loki as a child, he seemed so completely _him_ exactly the way he was. If Bestla had told her that he sprang, fully-formed and grown from the ground itself she would have had an easier time believing it.

“Wait,” she said, as a thought occurred. “If every woman is her own queen, why does Jotunheim have a king?”

“All those motherless men have to go somewhere,” Bestla said. “After a woman dies her children bury her, mourn her, and then disband from her stronghold. They travel from queendom to queendom to see if any woman will honour them by taking some of their life-code, or perhaps do them the greatest of all honours and let them stay by her side and bear children that are mostly or even wholly theirs. But unless that extremely rare event takes place, they have no home of their own anymore. Little wonder that they band together under a strong leader. Jotunheim’s king can speak for the realm if he likes, he knows that none of the women will follow him unless they already agree with his decisions.”

“If Jotun women have a thousand children,” Nal asked, “why don’t you?”

Bestla’s face became sad. “Because I can’t,” she said. “If I could have, I would have stayed on Jotunheim and birthed my own queendom, as all women do, but I was created by my mother during the war with Asgard, and I was still in her womb when she was hit by their weapons. She lived, but I was damaged. I could bear _maybe_ twelve children, perhaps not even that. A woman who is so infertile can never create a queendom large enough to be safe. My sister offered to let me stay with her, one day in the future after mother had died, and I had accepted gratefully, but before that happened the war finally became a negotiation for peace and I found myself facing an altogether different decision.”

Nal sat frozen in fascination; she had never heard this story from her Grandmother before.

“Asgardians like to seal peace treaties with marriages. They value a single spouse; they call them faithful and hold them in high regard. No Jotun woman would ever lower herself to be with only one man, and it looked as though peace was all but impossible.  
I was not enough of a Jotun woman with my injuries, not truly, but perhaps I could be enough of a woman for an Asgardian. I made the decision to sacrifice myself for my realm and my people. I agreed to come to Asgard, to marry the son of the king, and to bear him, and only him, three sons. This I did, and your father and uncles are my promise kept. They are not as good as I _could_ have made them, but they are the best I could do with what I had been given. I had hoped that Bor would be a man deserving of such a great honour, but unfortunately he has been a disappointment to me.”

“Why didn’t you have a daughter of your own?” Nal asked tentatively. “Someone to raise and love and pass on your stories to? Three is a long way from twelve.”

“After my third son, Bor no longer came to my bed. The Asgardians do not know how we make our children and I would be betraying my own people if I were to tell him. Another child would have had him accuse me of that very terrible Asgardian sin of unfaithfulness. I had to be content with my three sons and no others,” Bestla said.

Nal looked down at the reflecting pool. Bestla’s voice echoed with pain as she told her story. “And Jotunheim?” Nal asked. “Do they remember you and what you did?”

“My sister remembers; my friends remember,” Bestla said. “They still write to me after all these millennia.”

“Do you want to go home?” Nal asked.

Bestla sighed. “Some days, very much, but not these last twenty years or so, not since you and your sisters were born. My dear child, you never had a mother and I never had a daughter, but I feel privileged to walk this path with you. I never thought I would have anyone to sit and share my stories with. Your father and uncles were too keen to learn about battle and swords, but you and your sisters are children of my choosing, and for you I would walk through Muspelheim itself.” 

Nal winced. Her eyes hurt. They always did when she felt like crying, but tears had never fallen from her eyes. They couldn’t; Jotnir couldn’t cry.

“I’m sorry that you had to go so far away from your family,” Nal said.

“I made my family the same as any other woman,” Bestla said. “It’s a lot smaller than most, but it is mine, and I am proud of almost all of you.”

“Will I make a thousand children?” Nal asked.

“If you want to,” Bestla said. “Perhaps you will make a thousand, or perhaps you will be content with three or four. You were born here and have grown up surrounded by these people and their ways. The place of our birth is very influential on Jotnir women, by instinct and tradition we rarely settle far from where we are born. I will always crave the snow and the cold, and you, my dear, you will always long for flowers.”


	11. The Politics of a Royal Family

Daianya braced herself and lifted the weights again. The youngest members of the Valkyrie trainees did not have to lift weights, instead they were running through a purpose-built obstacle course designed to increase their speed, reflexes and stamina. Daianya had been introduced to the bigger one a few days ago and failed miserably at getting through it. Of course, it had been designed as a progression, not just from the smallest version but from the intermediate one as well. The balls, padded arrows and small sandbags came at her with ferocious speed, and promptly knocked her on her arse a dozen or so times, and the older girls, still all younger in development than Daianya, had laughed at her as they skipped on by.

Commander Gunhild had expressed concern that Daianya would not be able to build up her muscles or her reflexes enough to become an asset to the Valkyrie rather than a hindrance.

And so, Daianya had taken to lifting weights in her room at night before she went to bed, in addition to the ones she had to lift during training. She had also borrowed some books on unarmed combat from the palace library and was studying them closely and trying to mimic the exercises written within every morning before breakfast.

It had only been three weeks since she started, and every day was a private torture. And yet, despite the pain and the ridicule and Commander Gunhild’s personal disbelief, Daianya didn’t hate her training. After the first few days the agonising pain in her muscles had become more of a dull ache. She had never been overweight, but she’d still lost a tiny bit of padding around her middle, and climbing the stairs to her bedroom was taking less and less time, and with less and less pauses for breath.

She lifted the weights again, all the way above her head, and set them down with a grunt.

“You’re lifting more than you used to,” said a voice from behind her.

She turned. It was Tyr, with a group of his friends. They had come to use the weights for their own training.

“No, they’re the same as before,” she corrected.

“I mean you are lifting them for longer,” Tyr said. “You’re already getting stronger.”

“Good,” Daianya said, lifting again.

“Maybe one day you’ll be as strong as Solveig,” Tyr said.

Daianya frowned as she let the weights down. “ _General_ Solveig is a strong fighter, it’s true,” she said.

Tyr shrugged the easy shrug of a fifteen year old who knows everything. “Yeah, she’s worth looking up to, if you’re a girl. Maybe one day you will lead the Valkyrie like her.”

Daianya lifted the weights again. “Maybe,” she said, a little coldly, “if I’m worthy.”

“I’m going to lead the army,” Tyr said. “My father is the general, and I’ll be just like him.”

“I’m sure you will prove worthy,” Daianya said politely.

Tyr shrugged again. “I know I will,” he said, “and then you and I will coordinate battle plans against Asgard’s enemies.”

Daianya nodded. “If it’s required,” she said, “and if we are both worthy.”

Tyr rolled his eyes. “You’re the king’s granddaughter, you’ll be worthy, and I definitely will be. So when you finish your early studies you can come and study with me and we’ll learn to be great generals together.”

“That easy, huh?” Daianya asked, fighting a smile.

Tyr nodded. “It is if you’re good enough.”

Daianya inclined her head toward him. “No doubt, but for now we both have a lot to learn.”

Tyr reached down and picked up her weight with one hand. “Have you finished with this? I’ll put it back for you,” he said.

Even at fifteen he was a head taller than her, and likely to get a little taller again before he was finished growing. He had the swagger of a confident youth and even Daianya, with her limited experience, could see that he was trying to flirt with her.

If only he wasn’t so young maybe it would work better. 

The thing was he wasn’t actually that young, especially compared to her. He was centuries older than she was, and no doubt when he finally came of age in a few centuries more she would find herself more or less at the same level of development, assuming the slowing down of her age was set to continue. No doubt he thought he was being suave and charming, but she mostly just found him amusing.

“Daianya, fall in!” Commander Gunhild called out. The little trainees had finished running their obstacle course and were lining up to begin their drills.

“See you later,” Tyr said. “Maybe I’ll dance with you at your Coming-of-Age Feast tomorrow night.”

Daianya gave him a polite smile. “I’m sure there will be lots of dancing,” she said non-committedly, and ran to fall in with the others.

“You can flirt on your own time,” Commander Gunhild said, causing Daianya to pinch her lips together in annoyance and the little trainees to all start giggling.

Only Brunnhilde didn’t laugh. She stuck her tongue out instead. “Tyr’s a bully,” she said. “He likes to pick me up and throw me across the training ground. He says it’s funny to watch me bounce.”

“That’s horrible,” Daianya said.

Brunnhilde nodded sharply. “I know, but I’ll pay him back one day. When we’re both bigger I’ll throw him off the edge of Asgard.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Daianya said.

“No it’s not. I never bounce. I always end up with bruises. He deserves to get thrown out of Asgard, one way or another,” Brunnhilde insisted.

Daianya didn’t argue. She was too busy paying attention to Commander Gunhild, who was watching her and Brunnhilde closely as she began her demonstration on the proper way to hold a fighting knife.

Tyr was just a boy, and a silly, over-confident boy at that. He would learn humility eventually or he would find himself friendless and without rank, regardless of whom his father was. If she got the chance, Daianya resolved, she would speak to someone about him bullying the younger children. Maybe even Tyr himself at the feast. If he really did want to impress her then maybe he’d listen.

****

Odin sat in one of the balcony gardens overlooking the city. He had been asked to be there by King Bor to join him for lunch. The food was already on the table between the two chairs, and two cups and a large jug of mead had been left by the plate. Odin poured himself a cup and sipped it as he relaxed and enjoyed the feel of the sun on his skin.

The King was running late, and Odin took some time to admire the setting he found himself in. It was one of Nal’s designs. Sweeping arches covered over with hanging blossoms of purple and white, walkways edges with thick bushes, and artfully placed rocks covered with ground cover blooming bright pink.

Freya had told him once that there were many different kinds of love, familial, romantic, affectionate, playful, even obsessive, and that it was normal to feel one type more strongly than another depending on the person you cared for. Odin loved all of his children equally in the familial way, as a father should, but deep in his heart he knew that when it came to the other types of love he felt differently about each and every one of them.

The girls had been born in late spring, and Odin thought it suited them. Daianya was such a typical Aesir girl, strong and capable, and with such impressively wild hair. It was so thick that an axe blade would have a hard time reaching her scull with any force, as the sheer amount of cushioning it would have to go through would tax even the strongest warrior. She reminded Odin of the old gods in the library history books, and as she reached maturity she was becoming even more like the statues of old still present in the older forests of Asgard.

He was proud of Daianya, and saw himself in her the most, but he could rarely talk to her about her life. He knew she wanted to be a Valkyrie, and that she was finally getting her wish. He knew that she could see the souls of everyone, including his, which many people found to be intimidating, as though she could read their secrets right out of their heads. She couldn’t, but she gave the impression that she could, and her eyes were unnerving whenever they locked onto his own. She was always polite and respectful to him, but when he asked her about her day and his interests, he always got back the bare outline. At some point in her life she had stopped engaging with him, and he had no idea how to reverse it.

Nal was… honestly, Odin couldn’t quite fathom her. She was as blue as a summer sky, and could create and shape ice like all frost giants, but she loved being out under the sun. She adored plants and flowers and, unlike her sisters, appeared to be conscious of fashion, and always dressed in stylish and flattering clothing. By contrast, Daianya still got around in practical, hard-wearing, but rather blocky-looking outfits, whereas Anima would wear her dressing gown all day if she could get away with it.

Nal he loved as a father should, but whereas he could at least understand Daianya, even if he could not talk to her, he struggled even to do that with Nal. She was hard and cold in person, but she tended and cared for her gardens like a mother hen to her chicks. She was always kind to the servants and spoke to them with unfailing politeness, but she was bitter and icy to the nobles who tried to cross her. Odin hoped that she would be able to find her own way in life, because he hadn’t a clue how to help her if she didn’t.

Odin sighed indulgently as his mind turned to his youngest daughter. Anima was the most childish and innocent of his children. She looked at the whole world as if it was a playground, filled with fun activities to do every day. Part of the reason was that Odin had deliberately tried to make it that way. She was here for such a short time – twenty years were gone already – and he couldn’t bear to see her unhappy. Loki had been right when he nicknamed her puppy, although it was slightly cruel to do so, but that was how most people saw her. She was like a family pet, loving and innocent and in need of protection. Odin couldn’t stand the thought of her heart ever breaking.

Anima was undeniably his favourite. He tried hard to keep that fact from his other daughters, but whereas with them he loved them as a father should, with Anima he loved her for being herself. She was easy to talk to, and still sought him out regularly to tell him all about her day. She never had her guard up, and her face was always open, her feelings were never guarded or hidden behind a mask of politeness. Anima reminded him every day of her mother, who had also had the same, open countenance.

His attention was diverted by the arrival of Bor. “Father,” Odin greeted, going to rise. 

Bor gave him a nod of acknowledgement and waved a hand for him to stay seated. “Big feast tomorrow night,” he said, sitting down in his own chair and grabbing a hunk of boar and a roll of bread. “The girls are now women; hard to believe they were only born two decades ago.”

Odin nodded. “I struggle to believe it,” he said, pouring his father a cup of mead.

Bor took the cup with a nod of thanks and washed down his mouthful. “But they _are_ grown,” he said. “So it’s time we talked about you getting married again.”

Odin blinked. “Again?” he asked. “I’ve been married twice now.”

Bor nodded. “And unlucky with it, I know. Helda was a good match for you, but she fell from that balcony, and Yrsa was... a choice, but she gave you an Aesir princess, and three goddesses, well, one goddess but the common people don’t know any better. The royal family hasn’t had an Aesir in it for generations; it’s made us very popular with the common people, but Odin, my boy, you need a son.”

Odin frowned. “That’s a very old way of thinking, Father,” he said. “I thought you were going to change that old law, I know I will if you do not.”

Bor huffed under his breath. “I was. I know that a woman, when properly educated, can lead a realm. My own mother practically ran the place while my father was away at war, but we need a strong leader to follow you. Asgard has only had a ruling queen once for sure and twice if you believe the myths, and right now a boy is automatically higher in the line of succession which is important – ”

“Women can be strong,” Odin argued. He felt as though he had to stand up for his daughters.

Bor sighed heavily. “Son, listen to me, can you imagine Asgard under the rule of Hela? Because that’s what we’re heading towards if you don’t have a son to take her place in the order of succession.”

Odin frowned deeply. “Hela is…” he started to say, but couldn’t finish.

Bor gave him a knowing look as he trailed awkwardly into silence. “She’s not fit to rule,” he said. “She’s our greatest and most formidable weapon, but she couldn’t run a market stall, let alone a kingdom. In a matter of weeks she’d ruin everything you or I built up.”

Odin sighed and nodded in understanding. Hela was built to kill. Her title as Goddess of Death had been earned at the age of two when she’d channelled Yggdrasil and accidently killed her nursemaid. Since then, she had only increased in her power, and her desire for death. 

“Hela would make a great executioner,” Odin said. “It suits her nature.”

Bor nodded. “I’ll see to it when she returns. She needs something to hold her in peacetime. But don’t think you’ve gotten me off the topic, you need to marry again. I don’t want it to be entirely out of your hands, however, so I’ve invited a large number of nobility from Asgard as well as the other realms to the girls’ coming of age feast, I expect you to speak to them all and see if there are any you like.”

Odin breathed out heavily. “I will speak to them,” he said. “But I can’t make any promises, Father, I was fortunate to be happy with Helda, and I fell in love for the first time with Yrsa, I can’t imagine doing it again.”

Bor grunted. “You have to, for the good of Asgard. I agreed to marry your mother without ever seeing her, we’ve nothing in common and I can’t say I ever really fancied her, but we made it work as best we could. You should be grateful I’m not choosing for you.”

Odin bowed his head in respect. “Thank you for that, Father, I am grateful for the freedom. I will try to find someone I like.”

Bor nodded. “Good. We need a son from you. Hela can be his executioner and Daianya can be his advisor, or maybe Queen of Vanaheim, if Dimcken’s son can be persuaded. He’s about the right age for her, which is a bonus.”

Odin sighed. “I miss Yrsa,” he said. “She would have been so happy to see her daughters grown.”

Bor grunted. “Would she have lived that long?” he asked.

“She’d be forty three now,” Odin said, “with about another eighty or ninety years in front of her, had she stayed here on Asgard with the medicine we have.”

Bor looked across at his son and his expression softened. “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Talk to the women at the feast, see if you find anyone you’d like to talk to a little bit more, but if you don’t, I won’t make you start looking seriously for another century. You can have until what would have been the end of Yrsa’s natural life to mourn her.”

Odin blinked hard to clear the tears from his eyes. “Thank you, Father,” he said.

“I do love you, my son, I want you to be happy if you can be,” Bor said. “But we are royalty, and we must do our duty.”

“I know,” Odin said. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, open question for anyone out there reading. I'm not particularly good at thinking of tags for my stories. If you think there are any missing please let me know so I can add it in. I'm talking about warnings, descriptions, whatever really. I serious struggle to think of tags every time I write something so I would appreciate the help.


	12. Death to All and A Mother’s Gift

Hela braced herself as the ship made the final jump through space to finally reach the place Loki had called Knowhere. For a brief moment she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, then her eyes began to sparkle with delight as a slow, almost seductive smile spread across her features.

“What is that?” one of her warriors, a man named Ragnar, asked.

“A severed head,” Hela said softly, gleefully, “the severed head of very powerful Being. Can you feel it? It’s still dying.”

Ragnar, a veteran of many of Hela’s missions and no stranger to death and destruction, nevertheless swallowed uncomfortably and looked away. “It’s still dying?” he repeated.

“The Being is long dead but the cells are still trying to… live,” Hela said. “It’s so massive that they are still breaking down after all this time, dying one after another in a chain reaction that has been going on for centuries and will go one for centuries more. It’s beautiful.”

The head looked fully intact, other than the clear trauma at the neck. The vacuum of space had preserved it almost fully. 

There was a settlement located around its mouth, and partly inside of it. The pilot, fighting the urge to gag, flew them down and sent a request to land.

“This place doesn’t look very big,” Ragnar said. “If the Titan is here we’ll soon find him, and if he’s not then it won’t take long to question the people here.”

Hela nodded. “This place looks exactly like where you’d expect to find deserters and criminals,” she said, “and the Titan, of course, is both. Do not forget that, and especially do not forget what they are capable of.”

The ship shuddered as it entered the crude gravitational field of the settlement. Hela sauntered through the back and down to the airlock. The inner and outer doors both activated and she continued her swaying walk down the ramp and onto the settlement landing pad.

There was a man there with a computer device.

“Landings not free,” he said. “We need to agree on payment before you can go any further.”

Hela flicked her wrist and the man made a gurgling sound as the knife hit him in the throat.

“Guard the ship,” she said, without breaking stride.

Ragnar gestured to two of his men to stay, while the rest followed him and Hela past the other landing pads and into the settlement proper.

Hela had been right in her assessment. The settlement was one of thieves, criminals and desperate people. Several of which were openly harvesting material from the celestial’s head.

“What’s that?” Ragnar asked as they walked past a pool of thick, yellow liquid which was being harvested by a group of insect-looking creatures.

“Who cares,” Hela said.

“They’re siphoning it into barrels, it could be valuable,” Ragnar said.

“If you think you can make a weapon out of it then go right ahead and take some back with you, otherwise it’s of no value to us,” Hela said.

“It’s spinal fluid,” said another of the men, a man named Leif. He was a proud warrior, but he came from a family of merchants and traders, and he knew a little bit about a lot of items, mostly how much you could sell them for.

Hela grunted dismissively.

“One barrel could buy you a block of uru from the Jotunheim, or half a block from the Dwarves, thieves that they are,” he added.

Ragnar glanced across at Hela.

“Oh all right,” Hela said, “after we’re done you can fill up a few storage tanks.”

Ragnar nodded curtly. “Best get the mission over with then,” he said, raising his voice slightly so that the men behind him stopped their chatter about the subject.

They found the one place on Knowhere that was offering food and drinks and stepped inside. The barman watched them warily as they made their way towards him.

“Have you seen a Titan?” Hela asked.

“No,” he said immediately.

“Please take a moment to consider that answer,” Ragnar said, “because the next time she asks you will not be in a good position.”

“Knowhere doesn’t see anyone,” the man said.

Hela made a movement with her arm and a sword appeared, far too long and sharp to have been stowed away anywhere physical.

“You have a helper,” she said, her eyes flickering to where two young women stood, frozen in fear.

The man reached beneath the bar as though to grab something. “I have two, and I’ll thank you to be leaving,” he said.

Hela didn’t even look. She flung the sword in a single, rapid movement and one of the women cried out. She was luckier than the one that didn’t. The silent one fell to the floor, already dead.

The man pulled his weapon from beneath the bar but Ragnar cut it in two with his sword. It was made of Asgardian steel but the blade had been edged with uru. The weapon exploded in his head, burning the flesh and breaking his fingers.

“I did warn you,” he said as the clientele of the bar began to rise. Some ran for the door, still others pulled their weapons.

Hela smiled patronisingly. “Have you seen a Titan?” she asked.

The barman spat, cradling his hand against his chest. “Knowhere doesn’t-” he started to say, but the rest of his sentence was cut off as Hela killed him.

The remaining people in the bar began to shoot at her. Ragnar and his men dropped out of the line of fire; Hela could take the hits far more easily than they could. He and his men rolled, ducked or otherwise took evasive actions before reaching their targets and fighting back. Hela just laughed as the energy hit her, before throwing more swords around her with reckless abandon.

They died; every last one of them. When the fight was over, Ragnar looked around at the room full of dead men and women and idly kicked a body just to be sure.

“We should have kept one for questioning,” he said.

Hela shrugged carelessly. “More will come, we’ll ask them,” she said.

Sure enough, there was the sound of approaching footsteps. The door burst inward under the forward momentum of a number of the insect-looking creatures, who made the mistake of immediately charging Ragnar.

Hela barely exerted herself. The insect-like creations appeared to be the most numerous of the species on Knowhere, but they were far from the strongest.

“We need at least one person alive,” Ragnar reminded her.

He had worked with Hela for over two hundred years and he had to say that the war had changed her. Before she had been able to show some measure of restraint, now she had none even when it was required.

Leif had gone into the back area behind the bar to investigate, and now he called out to them to get their attention.

“Found someone alive,” he said, dragging a woman out behind him.

Just for a second, Ragnar thought he’d have to physically stop Hela from reacting, but though her hand twitched at the sight of a new target, she managed to hold off from completing the movement.

“Have you seen a Titan?” she asked, grinning in an extremely unnerving way.

“Yes,” the woman said immediately, “but he left a week ago. Please don’t kill me.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Ragnar asked.

“No,” she said.

“Did you get his name?” Hela asked.

“Yes, yes, his companions called him Lord Thanos,” she said.

Hela cursed and smashed the table nearest to her. Ragnar hissed between his teeth. Thanos had been a fierce fighter in the war. He was a good tactician, always showing up where he wasn’t wanted and doing more damage than his fellow Titan Lords.

“Of all the ones to escape, it had to be him,” Ragnar muttered.

“Where did he go?” Hela asked the woman, who shook her head frantically. 

“I don’t know, he didn’t say, please don’t hurt me, please.”

Hela looked over at Ragnar, who shrugged.

The woman’s pleas were cut off, along with her head, by Hela’s blade.

“Someone down at the landing pads might have seen what ship he had,” Ragnar said. 

“Tell the men down there to start asking,” Hela said. “I will question the rest of the people on my way back.”

By the time Hela reached the landing pad, the settlement on Knowhere was all but wiped out. It did not matter what answer was given, they all died anyway. Ragnar honestly didn’t care that much. Killing people meant that they couldn’t bother you anymore, and that was fine by him.

“He was on a damaged Titan ship, a little scout class vessel,” Leif said, checking the landing pad payment logs of the man Hela had killed. “He paid by trading in a Titan power core for a less powerful model. He must be desperate.”

“Where did he go?” Hela asked.

“The tracking sensors lost him when he entered a wormhole, but it was less than two days ago. We can scan the departure area and see if the remnants of his passage are still able to be reconstructed.”

“Let’s move quickly,” Hela said, boarding the ship without looking back.

“Your Grace, the spinal fluid?” Ragnar asked.

“Thanos is a threat that must be eliminated while he is still vulnerable,” Hela said. “If we succeed then we can come back for the fluid; it’s not like anyone else is going to be taking it.”

They boarded behind her and took their stations as the pilot began the take-off procedure.

****

On the day of her twentieth birthday, Nal woke to the smell of flowers. Granted, her room was filled with them, so that should not have been unusual, but her room did not have roses in it, and what she could smell was definitely roses.

She opened her eyes and sat up. Someone – and she had her suspicions of who – had covered her whole dining table with close to a hundred roses of varying colours. The display should have looked horrible, after all that many colours all together logically should have clashed, but care and attention had clearly been paid to the arrangement of them all, and the result was rather charming.

 _Uncle Loki left me chocolate!!!!_ Anima thought in her head.

Nal smothered a laugh and pushed her covers back. Of course Anima would be given her weight in chocolate, and no doubt Daianya would have – 

_Two rather fine swords, in the style of the Valkyrie Dragonfangs, but made of uru. How did he manage to afford this?!_

_Are you sure it was Loki?_ Nal asked, although she was fairly certain it had to be. _Maybe he and Father worked together and that’s where he got the money?_

 _Father would never have approved me having weapons._ Daianya thought. _Can we come to your room for breakfast?_

Nal regarded her dining table thoughtfully. _Noooo_ , she thought, _My dining table is covered in roses, Anima and I will have to come to yours._

The sound of the elevator could be heard as Nal stepped out of her room and headed to Daianya’s. She was joined by Anima, who was eating her way through some of her chocolate.

“Already?” Nal asked her.

Anima grinned at her with chocolate-covered teeth. “Want some?” she asked.

Nal shook her head as the elevator door opened and Kayla came out, pushing the cart with their breakfasts on it.

“Good morning, Kayla,” Nal said politely.

Kayla dropped into a curtsy. “Good morning, your Grace,” she said.

Daianya pulled her door open. “Come on in,” she said. “Good morning Kayla.”

“Good morning, your Grace, and best wishes on your birthday,” Kayla said.

Anima and Nal exchanged glances behind Kayla’s back; Anima stuck her tongue out while Nal pulled a mocking face.

Daianya very carefully did not react. By the time Kayla turned around the other two were both masks of serenity and dignity.

Anima entered Daianya’s room immediately, but Nal remained on the landing and watched Kayla go. Kayla backed the tray into the elevator and pressed the control to go back down. Nal continued to watch her until the doors were fully closed.

“You’re going to make her hate you,” Daianya said.

“She already hates me,” Nal replied.

“No, right now she just doesn’t like you, hate is a very different thing,” Daianya said.

Nal shrugged. “She started it.”

From behind Daianya, Anima lifted one of the blades and held it above her head. “Do I look impressive?” she asked. “Like a majestic hero?”

“Sure,” Nal said, “provided that majestic heroes get around in lacy nightdresses and fluffy dressing gowns.”

“They might, you don’t know,” Anima retorted cheerfully.

“Just don’t slice off anything important,” Daianya said, struggling not to laugh.

Anima put the sword down and they sat down to eat.

“Are you feeling better?” Anima asked Nal as she uncovered her tray.

“A little bit,” Nal said. “The sensation will never fade, according to Grandmother, but I am learning to live with it, and I did notice that once I have fully… understood? Something then it doesn’t bother me as much when I eat it again.”

“So eat your bacon,” Anima said, staring at her intently.

Nal narrowed her eyes and cut off a piece. Without breaking eye contact she put it in her mouth and started chewing. “Delicious,” she said.

Anima grinned. “Glad to hear it,” she said and started on her own meal.

Daianya was halfway through hers already.

“Slow down, there’s no rush,” Anima said.

“I’m hungry,” Daianya replied, “there’s your rush.”

“It’s all that training,” Nal said. “You’ll be eating like King Bor in a little while.”

“No one can eat like the king,” Anima said. “No one.”

“Father wants to see us in the butterfly garden at nine,” Daianya said. “He says he already told General Solveig so that she knows why I’m not there.”

“He’ll want to give us birthday wishes,” Nal said.

“Maybe he will give us presents,” Anima said.

“Nothing is going to beat those swords,” Daianya said.

“Or that chocolate,” Anima added.

The corner of Nal’s mouth pulled upward into a slight smile. She had a feeling that nothing was going to beat those roses either. 

****

After breakfast they each went to get ready. Daianya considered something reasonably elegant and adult, but she would still have to report for training later and she didn’t want to have to show up to change dressed in anything too fine. The little girls would laugh at her and, frankly, there was nothing like the sound of children laughing to really make you feel insecure. Instead she chose a dark red dress that ended at the shin and, while reasonably new, was made of hard-wearing material. She tried to pull her brush through her hair, but the handle snapped. With a sigh, she tossed it into the bin by her bathroom sink and pulled another one out of the drawer. One day, if she saved enough money, she was going to commission Eitri himself to make her a brush made of pure uru, maybe that way it would last longer than a few weeks.

 _Do you want me to braid it for you?_ Nal asked, sensing her frustration and guessing the cause with little trouble.

 _Please?_ Daianya thought in reply.

Anima chose a light yellow dress with a blue sash, which complimented her eyes. It didn’t have a single stain on it, which was why she considered it one of her nicer ones. She put a blue ribbon in her hair, but pulled it out again because she felt it looked too childish. Maybe she’d get to have a lady in waiting now that she was fully grown, who would do her hair in braids and whirls and put fancy pins in it.

Nal dressed as she always did. Her clothing was immaculate; her skirt went to the ground and swept elegantly around her. She had dressed like a lady of the court for several years now, and so there was nothing to change. Her own hair was pinned back neatly away from her face, and the bulk of it was left to trail down her back like black silk.

She did put a rose in her hair though, because it matched the pale pink of her dress rather well.

Washed and dressed, they headed down to the butterfly garden together. The garden was another of Nal’s creations and had been planted specifically with attracting butterflies in mind. Wide and long, with curved garden beds filling every space that wasn’t a path. Every plant in the garden was food or safety for a type of butterfly. The garden had been wildly successful too, and there were always at least three or four dozen butterflies flying around all spring long, with several peaks in number every few weeks or so. Today there were close to a hundred fluttering past them as they looked for their father.

“There he is!” Anima said, pointing.

Odin turned at the sound of her voice and smiled at his three daughters. 

“Father,” Daianya greeted once they were close enough to talk.

“Father,” Anima said.

Nal inclined her head. “Father,” she said.

“That’s a very pretty rose,” Odin said, noticing the one in her hair, “did you grow it?”

“I believe Loki gave it to me, one of a hundred or so,” Nal said.

Odin looked surprised. “Oh. Oh good.”

“You’ll _never_ guess what he gave me,” Anima said.

Odin began to smile immediately. “Something magical?” he asked.

“Chocolate. A whole tableful of chocolate,” Anima said.

“Oh.”

Odin turned to face Daianya. “Please don’t tell me he gave you a mountain of ribbons, or cake, or…”

“He gave me a set of short swords,” Daianya said.

Odin sighed heavily. “You really are determined to be a Valkyrie, aren’t you?” he asked.

Daianya nodded.

“Very well, in that case I will withdraw my protests, but Daughter, my child, it is not an easy thing to go into battle.”

“I hope that I never have to,” Daianya said.

“Knowing Father, you will most definitely have to, one day,” Odin said, with just a tinge of reproach for his father’s version of diplomacy. “But at least you will have your fellow Valkyrie to protect you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out three small bags. “Your grandfather and I have something bigger planned for tonight at your coming-of-age feast, but I wanted to give you these this morning. Your mother always wore a pendant around her neck, it wasn’t made of particularly valuable stones or materials, but she said it came from _her_ mother, and was made by her grandmother. It was the only thing left when she… when she died. The base was damaged, so I had the jewellers remove the stones and reset them into something new for each of you.”

He handed them each a bag and watched as they retrieved the contents. Each girl pulled out a pendant, made for a necklace. Daianya’s was made of gold, and was perfectly round with a wide border of twisted vines with three small red stones forming a triangle in the centre. Anima’s was copper and the shape looked like a cross between a diamond and a figure 8, with three small green stones in a vertical line down the centre. Nal’s was cast in platinum and shaped like a flower with a single, larger, white stone in the centre. 

“Father, thank you,” Nal said, speaking first. She immediately removed her snowflake necklace and replaced it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes Father, thank you,” Daianya said.

Anima didn’t say anything. She just stared down at the pendant in her hands. 

“Anima? Are you alright?” Odin asked.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and nodded, before throwing herself into his arms and giving him a hug. “Yes, Father, I’m alright,” she said. “It’s perfect, in every way it’s perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daianya’s pendant, minus the three stones: https://www.ka-gold-jewelry.com/p-products/journey-of-life-pendant-gold.php
> 
> Anima’s pendant shape: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cool_S
> 
> Nal’s pendant shape, but with only a centre stone and made of platinum: https://www.betteridge.com/raymond-yard-rock-crystal-diamond-flower-pendant/p/30251/
> 
> Also, I would like to thank everyone who suggested some tag ideas. I am not a short story writer (seriously, even my one-shots both rely on prompts so detailed they may as well be considered first chapters in their own right), so I really struggle with figuring out what I should put into the tags, which is like the shortest version of a story you can get. If you ever think of a tag that you feel applies to this story as we go along please tell me, I appreciated it a lot.


	13. It’s Our Party…

Daianya sat in front of the mirror with a concerned look on her face. Behind her, Nal and Anima were both brushing her hair, their faces twin masks of concentration.

“Why don’t you cut it short?” Anima asked. “I hear shaved sides is going to become very fashionable in a little while, you could get ahead of the curve.”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Daianya said, wincing as they brushed through the thick strands over and over again. “I shouldn’t have washed it, but after training it just felt so sweaty, and I didn’t want to ask the maids to help me with it because you know how they get that faint look of horror in their eyes.”

“Okay, I’m sick of this,” Anima said, throwing her brush down. “Stand back, Nal.”

Nal backed away as Daianya’s expression became alarmed. “What are you going to do?” She asked nervously.

Anima wiggled her fingers and gave her head a little shake. “Magic,” she said.

The next ten minutes were reasonably boring. Daianya and Nal knew enough to know that Anima’s spells always took a long time, but they also always ended with the exact result she had been aiming for.

At approximately minute ten, all of Daianya’s hair suddenly went straight.

“Okay Nal, you style it and I’ll put a little spell in to make it hold all night,” Anima said.

Daianya just stared at her reflection. “It’s so… long!” she exclaimed.

“Yes it is,” Nal said. “Still thick though, now hold still while I braid it.”

Nal’s own hair was as straight as falling water and so she was used to working with hair of that texture. She twisted and braided and twisted again until Daianya’s hair sat in an intricate woven design that sat across her scalp in a wide band. The remaineder of her hair fell freely behind her and, straightened out as it was, it reached all the way down her back. If she sat down she would only _just_ miss sitting on it.

“There, perfect,” Nal said, turning to look at Anima.

Anima wiggled her fingers again. “Don’t move an inch,” she said. “I don’t want a single strand to fall out of place before I’m finished.”

****

The girls finished getting ready and made their way down to the feast hall as the sun was setting. They stood side by side in front of the great doors. Their family, the Asgardian nobles, and the guest from other realms were already inside.

Daianya’s dress was dark blue, Anima had chosen a square neckline which was trimmed in gold, as was the banding around the waist. There was a golden lace pattern across the bottom of her skirt as well, which fell fairly straight around her.

Nal was dressed in a similar style, but her dress was dark silver. Her neckline was straight across, which accentuated her shoulders and neck, and the trimming was white fur. The skirt on her dress was also a straight cut, but the material was softer and had been gathered so that it fell in thin folds. She had put her hair up completely, twisting it into an intricately braided bun that had taken several months of practice to master.

The neckline on Anima’s dress was designed to curve over her breasts, in order to show off the shape without showing off the skin beneath it. The sleeves and skirt were emerald green and there was black lace over the bodice, across the part of her sleeves that covered her shoulders, and along the bottom of the skirt. Her hair was pinned back with emerald-topped pins, curtesy of Nal, with the remainder left to fall in waves down her back.

All three of them looked fully grown and elegant. They would be considered a credit to any royal family.

“I’ve just thought of something,” Nal said, making the other turn to look at her. “Hela’s not back yet.”

Anima grinned and Daianya smothered a smile as she nodded to the servant to open the door. He pushed it open and together the three of them walked inside.

“Your Majesty, Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies, Presenting Princess Daianya, Princess Nal and Princess Anima,” called out the announcer in a clear, booming voice.

“Good job, Friddi,” Anima whispered as she walked past.

They walked the length of the room to the sounds of cheers and applause.

 _All this because we didn’t die before the age of twenty,_ Nal thought.

 _Enjoy it,_ Anima thought. _How often are we going to have a party that’s just for us?_

 _That depends entirely on whether Daianya becomes a great warrior hero,_ Nal thought back. _We might find ourselves cheering her often._

 _I hope not,_ Daianya thought, _I really hope not. Parties are not what I would prefer to be doing._

They reached the end of the hall where Bor, Bestla and Odin had stood up and come around the table to greet them. Odin and Bestla gave them each a hug each, while Bor gave them a nod of acknowledgement and then looked up at the large crowd.

“Welcome all, to the coming-of-age feast to celebrate my three granddaughters, Daianya, Nal and Anima. It is my sincerest hope that you enjoy yourselves, and make this a night to remember!”

The crowd cheered even louder as the royal family took their seats and trays of food were brought out from the kitchens.

Nal cut herself a piece of roasted deer and regarded it thoughtfully. She hadn’t tried deer since she’d matured, and she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to try something new at such a public feast. She looked up and saw Loki sitting nearby at one of the closer tables. He made eye contact with her, looked down at her plate, then back up and nodded enthusiastically.

Nal tried the deer. It tasted of wild leaping and hurried sprinting, but also the distinct urge to butt heads against people she didn’t like.

Nal glanced back at Loki and tried not to smile. He knew exactly what it felt like, and he knew that she knew that he knew, and now he was going to be smug.

Loki did indeed look smug. He then picked up a piece of curried goat and raised an eyebrow at her thoughtfully. 

Anima was chatting to Bestla about her dress. 

“And then I saw I saw the green fabric and it was the perfect shade, so I asked if they had enough for a whole dress, because the sample was very small, but they had more in their storeroom, so I had this dress made, and then this morning Father gave me a pendant with stones from one Mother used to own, and my stones were green! Look it matches exactly!”

Bestla grinned. “It does indeed, the colour makes your eyes stand out even more than they already do, and you look very grown up, dear.”

Daianya, meanwhile, was scanning the room. She wasn’t sure exactly why, other than that she was always a little alert generally, but there was something about this room that made her even more watchful.

There were representatives from a number of the nine realms as well as a few of Asgard’s other allies. There were also a few races missing. The dwarves had not been invited, almost certainly because Bor did not want to risk them asking about payment for the weapons they had made. The king of Muspelheim was also missing, although that wasn’t really surprising, the last time he’d visited he and Bor had gotten into a shouting match so intense that Sutur had vowed to destroy Asgard and everything in it. As far as Daianya knew they hadn’t managed to patch up their differences since then.

But the King of Vanalheim was present with his two sons, Norbleen and Dorgen, the King of Svartalfheim, Malekith, was sitting at one of the higher tables, over which had been placed a shade cloth to dampen the bright lights of the feast hall from his and his companions’ eyes, and the King of Jotunheim was sitting almost on the complete opposite side of the hall. 

He was just a shade over ten feet tall, and his two companions were both easily over eight. He was bald, blue, and he had a hooked nose and quite prominent cheekbones. He wore a helmet of gold that sat tightly against his scalp and curved around it to rest below his ears, and he was staring, quite intently, at Nal.

 _You have an admirer,_ thought Daianya.

Nal continued eating, but her eyes flicked up. _Where?_

 _The Jotun King is watching you, but I’m more intrigued by his companions. **He’s** watching, **they** are staring,_ Daianya thought.

 _I can’t think why, it’s not as though they didn’t know I existed,_ Nal thought. _My birth was announced alongside yours and Anima’s, and surely it was mentioned that I was Jotun?_

 _I’m starting to wonder if it was,_ Daianya said. _But surely Grandmother would have told her sister about you, and the news would have filtered through the court of Jotunheim somehow._

Nal thought about it. If what their grandmother and Loki had said was true about every woman being her own queen, then maybe the news _hadn’t_ made it outside of Bestla’s sister’s queendom.

In any case, King Grundroth of Jotunheim’s interest was to be expected. Even if he had known she was Jotun he would surely have been interested lay eyes upon her, if only to see what a Jotun from Asgard would look like. 

Nal finally turned her head to look at him. He didn’t look away, but instead raised his glass in acknowledgement. Nal inclined her head in reply.

“Malekith is looking well,” Odin commented to Bor. “Why did you invite him?”

“Because we fought a war together and I’ve heard rumours he was bitter about his loses. I’m going to give him something to placate him,” Bor said. “Just a bit of gold and a few fancy jewels, nothing too valuable, but maybe it’ll shut him up.”

“His men should have shared in our spoils when we first got them,” Odin said, “then maybe things would be different today.”

“Dark elves are like magpies,” Bor said. “If you show them shiny things they’ll try to take it all. Don’t worry; I’ve got the gift all ready.”

Odin let the subject drop. He wasn’t going to win the battle and there were more pleasant things to talk to about.

“The girls look beautiful tonight, very grown up,” he said.

Bor nodded. “I’m glad to see it. I considered asking Freya to design their dresses and hair, but your mother advised me to let them show their individuality. She assured me that they would not let us down.”

Odin carefully hid his surprise that his father still listened to his mother on any topic. “She was right,” he said instead.

“Well, she a woman, so are they, I suppose women know women best,” Bor said. “Dimcken has been eyeing off Daianya since she walked in the door. I think he’s going to ask about her for his son. Norbleen’s a good warrior and a sensible sort of a man, according to all accounts, so it wouldn’t be a bad match for her. She’d be queen of Vanaheim; there’re far worse realms.”

Odin looked back and forth from his daughter to where Prince Norbleen sat, talking with his younger brother.

“But…” he started to say. “But… she’s not – ”

“Ready? She’s an adult, it’s time to start thinking about it,” Bor said.

“She’s twenty,” Odin said in a weak voice.

“And I probably could have held this celebration two, maybe even four years ago. It’s hard to guess when childhood ends when it comes to mortal growth,” Bor said. “But I had to draw the line somewhere and the girls haven’t spoken like children for a number of years. And if she’s ready to be an adult, she’s ready to be married.”

Odin took a deep drink of his wine to calm his nerves. In his head the girls were still, well, little girls. Twenty was nothing in Asgardian development. Every day with his daughters had been as though the flow of time had been accelerated. He was barely able to keep up with how fast they had changed some days, and now marriage?

“Not for a few more years though, Father, surely?” he said. “A few years’ engagement is nothing.”

Bor chuckled at his discomfort. “Relax, Son, I have to agree to arrange it first, and yes, a few years of writing letters and official visits is probably a good thing anyway, it’ll help bring our people closer together compared to just packing her off to Vanaheim without a second thought.”

“And what about Nal?” Odin asked, as the thought suddenly occurred to him. “What are your plans for Nal?”

Bor grunted. “Based on the way King Grundroth is watching her I’m expecting a marriage proposal by the end of the night, but I can’t say I’m happy with the idea.”

“No? I thought you’d want to continue the alliance your own marriage started,” Odin said, “and even I can’t deny that she’s the best candidate for Jotunheim.”

“True, but King Grundoth is a new king, and he wasn’t related to King Hailstrum, I’m not sure if there was a coup, or if it was planned, or if his reign even is stable, and it will be a long time before I can get answers to that last question. If I can have assurances that he is secure and that a marriage will be accepted by the Jotnir and last as long as his reign then I’d be more inclined to agree, but unless that happens there are other candidates who wouldn’t mind a Jotun for a bride, at least, not one that looks like Nal.”

Odin frowned slightly. “Who?” he asked.

Bor’s answer surprised him. “Malekith,” he said.

****

After eating, the musicians began to play and the lord and ladies went out to the floor to dance.

Nal glanced hopefully around. If all else failed she could always dance with Anima, but she was rather hoping someone would actually ask her.

Daianya was approached by Tyr.

“Will you dance with me, your Grace?” he asked, in what he no doubt believed was a sophisticated manner.

Anima turned her head away from them to avoid him seeing her smile. _He’s adorable,_ she thought.

Daianya raised her hand politely. “I’d love to,” she said, smiling a very courtly smile.

 _Do you think he’s got a crush on you, or do you think his father told him to get on your good side?_ Nal asked.

 _I’m about to find out,_ Daianya thought. _I need to have a word with him about his behaviour._

 _If it’s his father pushing things he’ll try to fix it, at least for a while, if it’s a crush he may leave you alone very quickly, nothing like criticism to turn a boy’s thoughts to other women,_ Nal thought. 

A second later she was distracted by a presence at her side.

“Your Grace, please allow me to introduce myself, I am Grundroth, King of Jotunheim,” King Grundroth said, bowing to her.

Nal stood up out of her seat to return the curtesy; but she may as well have not bothered. At five foot three inches she was almost exactly half his size, sitting down or standing up made almost no difference to how far her neck had to crane to see him.

“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing in turn.

 _I think he likes you,_ Anima thought.

“I have to say I was startled to see you tonight. I had heard that King Bor had a granddaughter they called Jotun, but it is so rare for us to be born from mothers of other races that I had thought perhaps you merely had a few small traits inherited from your grandmother.”

Nal’s mind immediately flashed to the child, the one who should have been instead of the three that were. A few small traits were no doubt all she would have had.

But she was gone; split apart before she ever saw daylight.

“You are not the first to be surprised by my presence, and I doubt you will be the last,” Nal said, forcing a smile. “But nevertheless, here I stand.”

“Have you ever considered visiting Jotunheim? To see the realm of your people?” he asked.

 _He definitely likes you, but how would that ever work? How is it supposed to fit?_ Anima asked.

“Your Majesty, how are you?” Bestla suddenly interjected into Grundroth and Nal’s conversation as Nal’s face went curiously blank. “I heard about the death of King Hailstrum, I am sorry for his loss, and I congratulate you on your ascension to the throne.”

King Grundroth bowed low to her. “His death was an accident, your Grace, and one I mourn deeply. It was Hailstrum who took me in when my mother died and taught me the secrets of kingship. I wish very much that he were here now.”

Bestla inclined her head gracefully. “No doubt his soul is feasting in the Great Spirit halls, surrounded by glory and those who had gone before him.”

“No doubt,” King Grundroth said.

Bor saw them talking and came over, as Nal graciously slipped away with a bow.

“Your Majesty,” Bor said.

“Your Majesty,” King Grundroth replied. His bow to Bor was not as deep as his bow to Bestla had been, but if Bor noticed he wisely decided not to make a scene.

Nal made her way down the side of the hall, still hoping someone would ask her to dance. If not she would have to start asking them herself, but it hurt a little to know that nobody wanted to dance with her and that they would do it only out of obligation and politeness.

“Your Grace, will you… will you dance with me?”

The question came out in the rush, and the speaker stumbled a little over his words. It was Magnus the Younger, Lord Magnus’ son.

“I would love to,” Nal said.

Magus had never spoken to her before in her life, but then maybe he hadn’t wanted to until they were closer in developmental age. His coming of age had been fifty years before – and thirty before she was born – but now they were both young adults.

He reached out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her to the centre of the floor.

****

Daianya glided across the floor with Tyr’s hand at her waist. He was a good dancer, which was nice, but he stood a head taller than her already and was likely to grow a little more before he reached adulthood, which was making actually talking to him difficult.

Daianya decided to dive right in.

“Brunnhilde said that you threw her across the training yard,” she said.

Tyr shrugged, and twirled her around. “She kept trying to pick up my sword. I told her not to over and over again. The little trainees aren’t allowed weapons with sharp blades; they don’t know enough yet.”

“But did you have to throw her?” Daianya asked.

Tyr pulled a face. “I guess not, I could have told on her and gotten her into trouble, but I figured one good throw wouldn’t bruise much, other than her bottom and her ego, and she didn’t come back again so I could lift my weights without having to watch my sword every few seconds to make sure it was still there. She’ll be a tough fighter one day, I’ll give her that.”

Daianya sighed slightly. “Please, just don’t do it again,” she said. “Getting people into trouble isn’t exactly nice, but she also needs to learn to obey orders.”

“Obeying orders is so you don’t get hurt,” Tyr countered, “I think she learnt the lesson all the same.”

Daianya dropped it. She’d have to keep an ear out to hear if it happened again, but for now there was little use in arguing.

“Can I dance with you again?” Tyr asked as soon as the song stopped.

“Your Grace, will you dance with me?”

Daianya and Tyr both turned to look at the speaker. It was Crown Prince Norbleen of Vanaheim.

Tyr pulled a face and stepped back. The son of a General was well and truly outranked by the son of a king.

“Maybe later?” he asked Daianya instead.

Daianya nodded to keep the peace and Tyr melted away. She wasn’t anywhere near as fond of dancing as Nal was, but it appeared that she was going to be on her feet for most of the night.

The music started up again and Norbleen took her hand. His other hand went to her waist and they started to move. 

“I’m afraid I’m not the best at dancing the Asgardian way,” he said. “Vanir dancing is very rigid and has more steps to follow and memorise.”

Nevertheless he was graceful enough on his feet that they did not immediately tumble over into a heap.

“Have you been to Asgard before?” Daianya asked, trying to make polite conversation.

She really, really wanted to go out to the training yards and do something – anything – other than dance and make pleasant chatter, like shoot arrows or something, she needed more practise with a bow anyway, and – 

“Once, when I was quite a bit younger, well before the Titan war I came to visit with my mother. She was friends with a number of ladies here, and wanted to visit them for a few weeks. I mostly remember your grandfather telling me that I was a fine-looking boy, and then your sister Hela hit me with a stick.”

Daianya bit her lip and looked away.

“She’s not here tonight, is she?” he asked with what was _probably_ fake concern in his tone.

“She’s off-realm at the moment,” Daianya said, “hunting down a stray Titan.”

“Did one of them escape?” Instantly Norbleen seemed different. His face went serious and his body stiffened, as though to ward off an attack.

“Uncle Loki stole something off a Titan, so either he escaped or he was never a part of the war. Hela will deal with it, either way,” Daianya said. “She’s good at dealing with things.”

“She’s good at killing things,” Norbleen said. “Which I suppose is the best way to deal with a Titan warrior, but not, perhaps, the best way of dealing with anything else.”

Daianya had to concede his point.

“Did you fight in the war?” she asked.

Norbleen nodded. “Alongside my Uncle, General Breaveen, we liberated the Madatolians, and the Empiradors. He’s still helping to oversee the blockade even now.”

“Do you think the blockade will ever be lifted?” Daianya asked.

Norbleen shook his head. “Not because it shouldn’t be – nobody deserves to be locked away forever – but the Titan leadership refuses to surrender, they refuse to sign any form of peace treaty. Their stubbornness is hurting their people, but if we fold and let them free without assurances then they will think that we are weak and easy to manipulate. They will never be able to be traded with, or trusted. I just hope the people rise up against them and force them to make peace, from all reports they are suffering from food shortages, power shortages, and medical shortages. It’s devastating.”

The song came to an end, and another young noble appeared at Daianya’s side.

“Your Grace – ” he began.

“Yes, yes,” Daianya said, “let’s dance.”

Norbleen bowed to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speak of such depressing things at your celebration,” he said.

“I’m sorry we can’t speak of it more,” Daianya said as she took the other man’s hand and let him line her up for the next dance.


	14. ...and We’ll Cry if We Want To

Anima was bored.

There were a lot of new faces in the hall, but most of them were old and married, not the young men she’d been hoping for. Prince Norbleen was kind of cute, but Anima had overheard Bor’s plans regarding him and Daianya, so no chance there, and _WHAT_ was that nonsense about Nal and Malekith? _Malekith?!_ Ew. She hadn’t told Nal yet what she had heard, she didn’t want to spoil the evening and telling Nal that Bor wanted to marry her to Malekith was _at least_ the fourth fastest way to do so, maybe even the third.

Feeling slightly left out of her own party, and overshadowed by her sisters yet again, Anima took a seat next to Bragi and poured him a glass of wine.

“Tell me a story, Lord Bragi,” she said. “Tell me something I’ve never heard before.”

To her surprise, his mostly blind eyes turned her way and almost seemed to focus right on her. “Oh Little One, but not so little anymore, are you? You don’t want to hear my stories; my time to tell them is all but over.”

Anima shook her head in protest. “I’ve heard most of them, I’ll admit, but surely there’s something I haven’t heard, something you won’t tell to children.”

He laughed, a gravelly, throaty sound, and took a drink of his wine.

“You are right about that, your Grace, there are a few I’ve not told you, for I did not think you were old enough – or perhaps wise enough – to be told.”

“I’m old enough now,” Anima said, ignoring ‘wise’ for the moment, “King Bor has proclaimed it so.”

Bragi chuckled again. “Very well. If you so desire, I shall tell you about the death of the gods.”

Anima leaned forwards, already intrigued. 

“Once, in the deepest, darkest past, Yggdrasil grew its first tendril, and from it came the nine realms as we know it. But whereas the other nine realms all grew as an extension of Yggdrasil itself, Asgard did not.”

Anima pulled a face. “What? But it’s one of the nine realms; it had to come from Yggdrasil.”

Bragi leaned forwards, bringing their faces close together. “It’s a parasite,” he whispered. “It feeds on the power of Yggdrasil in place of what should be here. Yggdrasil grows the plants, grows the people, creates the gods, but the parasite made the land, and it feeds on it all, and one day, when the last of the gods – only one or two - are all that is left, Asgard will fall to the parasite, and Yggdrasil will have no choice but to destroy it in order to save itself.”

“Ragnarok,” Anima whispered, utterly entranced. “But Ragnarok is supposed to be the end of _all_ the nine realms.” 

“So we tell the children, but you are no longer a child. Ragnarok is the destruction of Asgard. We know this because the soil of Asgard is much, _much_ younger than the soil of the other nine realms. It hasn’t been here anywhere near as long, and Asgard is the only place where the story of Ragnarok is considered a prophesy, passed down from bard to bard, from king to king, until the day it finally comes true.”

“Can the parasite be destroyed?” Anima asked. “Can Ragnarok be stopped?”

Bragi shook his head. “The parasite is embedded in our very land; no one can destroy it without destroying all of us. The truth is, Little One, one day Asgard will fall, and the other eight realms will continue on without it. They will live their lives and trade their wares, and slowly Asgard will be forgotten and lost to history. Now is that not a terrifying thought?”

Anima twisted her hands together tightly. He may as well have described her life compared to the Asgardians. She would live and die, and they would carry on without her, moving forwards, slowly forgetting, until one day she was barely a myth, or more likely lost altogether.

“Thank you for the story, Lord Bragi,” she said sadly, “I think perhaps I was still a little young to hear it after all.”

She rose and made her way back to the high table. All of the sudden the party seemed frivolous and stupid; a complete waste of precious time that she did not have to spare.

****

Nal was having a really good time. After Magnus had asked to dance, others had come up and asked her as well. She hadn’t been without a partner for more than an hour.

She twirled and spun across the floor, losing herself in the music and movement. She’d always loved parties. There was something so wonderful about the glittering lights and the grand displays; they always made the evening feel magical.

The music stopped and her partner bowed. None of them said much, other than asking her to dance, but that was okay, she didn’t mind. 

She turned away and found herself facing Loki, who held out a hand and gave her an inquiring look.

“Will you dance with me, my Princess?” he asked.

She took his hand with a smile. They began to move as the music started again.

“I saw King Grunts-a-lot talking to you before,” Loki said after a minute.

“He introduced himself,” Nal said. “Why?”

“I’m just curious to know what he makes of you.”

“He wasn’t aware that I was fully Jotun, he said he was surprised.”

“I thought that might happen,” Loki said, twirling her around. “Nobody ever believed me when I told them you were truly a Jotun; they didn’t think it was possible. Even my own dear mother thought I was lying, and I almost never lie to her.”

“Why would they think that? Other than the fact that you were the one telling them,” Nal asked.

Loki smiled. “Mothers create daughters to follow them, it is tradition. No woman chooses to only have sons because it will end her line the moment she dies. No daughter would claim her father’s heritage if she had her mother’s. They didn’t believe that a half-Jotun half-Asgardian man could father a pure Jotun on a mortal, of all species. And frankly, were it not for the incident at your birth, he wouldn’t have.”

“So I’m the first Jotun to… to be what exactly?” Nal asked.

“You are the first Jotun to be born without the input of your mother. No one crafted you, no one gave you special skills or unique traits. Everything you are is due to the randomness of Asgardian and mortal breeding, and yet, you have come out more Jotun than many of those currently living on Jotunheim. Your life-code is purer than any I’ve ever felt.”

“You’ve felt my life code?” Nal said.

“Of course, I _am_ a half-woman Jotun, or at least I’ve been pregnant, I have the necessary skills,” Loki said. “I’ve read the code of almost every woman in this room, for I have danced with most of them more than once, more than enough time to read what I wish to read. Haven’t you felt it yourself, dancing with all those boys?”

Nal nodded. “It’s the weirdest sensation, but when I touch them I feel as though I can read, not just who they are, but who their parents were, and who their grandparents might have been. I can taste the strength in their arms and the intelligence in their brains.”

“Good, one day you can use all that to make someone very special,” Loki said.

“I can’t read your life-code,” Nal said. “You are wearing gloves.”

Loki grinned. “I am the most special Jotun to ever have been created, to read me is a privilege I reserve for the worthy.”

Nal rolled her eyes. “And what do I have to do to be worthy?” she asked.

The music stopped and Loki gave her a quick nod, ignoring the question entirely. “Have fun, my Princess, here comes another boy to spin you around.”

There was indeed another young man standing before her, already asking her to dance. Loki disappeared into the crowd as the music began again.

****

Odin walked the hall slowly, taking in the people dancing and others who were talking. Malekith and his companions were staying at their table and showing no signs of wanting to join in on the party. Odin couldn’t remember if they had ever been invited to an Asgardian event before. Surely them showing up this time was a good sign? Despite the tension that had grown between their two peoples as a result of Bor’s obvious bias toward Asgardian soldiers.

He considered going over to speak to them, but Bor had promised him a century of peace on the subject of marriage in exchange for at least trying to find a woman who could attract him.

Odin approached a group of three women from the court. Their circle opened at once to include him. At least he didn’t have to worry about not being welcomed; crown princes were rarely ignored in social settings.

He gave them all a smile as they bowed to him. 

“Excuse me, my ladies, but I was wondering if any of you would like to dance?” he asked.

All three of them brightened up. Odin held out his hand to the nearest. As he led her out onto the floor he gave the others a smile and said: “I’ll be back in a moment.”

They bowed again and stood at the edge of the dancing like two identical statues, eyes locked onto him and their now rival.

Odin preferred to dance when meeting a woman for the first time. It meant that they could have a short conversation and, should he not find it engaging, when the dance was over he could leave immediately without being seen as impolite.

“You are Lord Afred’s daughter, yes?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, your Grace, Marda, your Grace. We came from the outer edge to be at the celebrations.”

“So your father is here too?” he asked.

“He came to the palace, your Grace.”

“To the palace? But not to the celebration?”

“Well, your Grace, truth be told he’s not very well, but he wanted to see the princesses so we travelled here. Unfortunately he was afflicted this afternoon and so couldn’t come after all. He did insist that I attend, he said that because we live so far away I won’t have many opportunities to attend palace feasts.”

Odin frowned. “What is the matter with him?” he asked.

Marda shook her head. “We don’t know, your Grace. He was fine before he went to the war but when he came back he would shake and pant, as though in fear, at random times, and for no reason that we could see. It’s as though a part of him is stuck in battle all the time and cannot find peace.”

Odin nodded thoughtfully. “I may know someone who can help him,” he said.

****

Daianya’s feet hurt. She really wanted to sit down, but the steady stream of people asking her to dance was making it impossible. She _could_ say she was tired and just leave the dancing, but there were rather a lot of high born lords who might take offence if _their_ son was the one she turned down. 

To her great and utter relief, her father appeared at her side. “Daughter,” he said. “May I introduce Lady Marda, daughter of Lord Afred. Her father appears to be suffering from an affliction of the soul, or at least that’s what it sounded like when she described his symptoms.”

Daianya looked across at Marda, who was bowing to her. “Would you like me to go and see him right now?” she asked, silently begging that answer be yes.

“No, you cannot leave your celebration feast,” Odin said, “but if you could visit him tomorrow I would be very grateful. Lord Afred was a friend of mine from childhood.”

“Of course, Father, I would be honoured to help your friend,” she said. “Shall we sit for now?”

“I promised two other ladies a dance each,” Odin said. “But I will walk you to the table.”

Daianya gratefully took his arm and let him lead her away from the dancing.

“There’re so many of them,” she said. 

“Yes, and their parents have been biding their time for twenty years waiting for you to grow up,” Odin said. “Sit and talk to your grandmother for a while, rest your feet.”

And then he was gone, and Daianya sank into her chair and tried not to moan as the pressure left her feet.

“You said you’d dance with me again,” said Tyr, appearing beside her as if by magic.

“You could go and dance with my sister,” Daianya suggested, “she loves to dance.”

“Nah, the boys haven’t finished yet,” Tyr said.

“Finished what?” Daianya asked.

“They all bet each other that they wouldn’t be brave enough to hold her hand for the length of a song because she’ll freeze their fingers off,” Tyr said. “There’s about four of them left that’ve been hanging back, the cowards.”

On the dance floor, Nal suddenly stiffened. The boy she had been dancing with almost wet his pants in sudden fear.

 _Don’t do anything stupid,_ Daianya thought.

 _They are dancing with me because of a **DARE**_ , Nal thought. _I’ll show them stupid._

The boy in front of her was now backing away with fear in his eyes. Daianya swore the room grew a few degrees colder as the song came to a close.

_****_

And at the table they had been designated, General Thrym leaned over and murmured in King Grundroth’s ear: “Someone's pissed her off.” 

The King nodded very slightly, but otherwise made no sign that he’d heard.

_****_

“And now, we shall present to our new adults a gift each, to mark the transition from child to woman!” Bor announced, oblivious to the change in the atmosphere.

Nal walked away from the boy without looking at him. She made her way to the front table and sat gracefully down as though nothing had ever troubled her in her life.

Tyr melted away from Daianya’s side as Bor turned to face her.

“To the eldest of my triplet granddaughters, Daianya, Goddess of Souls, second born child of Odin, I gift you a set of armour, so that you may follow in the footsteps of the great Valkyrie who have come before you.”

From the side of the room, two servants pushed a stand forwards and removed the sheet covering it.

It was a very fine set of armour. There was a breastplate, braces, greaves and a helmet. It was not the typical Valkyrie uniform at all, but then Bor, Odin, Hela, any Lord really, did not wear typical army uniforms on the battlefield either.

Daianya stood up beside King Bor and gave him a bow of thanks.

Bor grinned widely and continued. “To the second of the triplets, Nal, Goddess of Winter, I gift to you the lands to the north of the palace, ten thousand acres to do with what you please. No doubt you will grow some exceptional flowers, but do not neglect your tenants or their farms.”

He handed Nal a scroll of ownership as she stood and bowed to him.

“And to the youngest child of my son, Anima, Goddess of Mortals, I gift to you these tomes of magic, which have been acquired from the great Tower of Vanaheim. I know you will use them wisely and well.”

The crowd cheered as the three of them stood there, identical fake smiles on their faces.

 _I have never wanted to leave a feast more in my life,_ Nal thought.

The other two were in complete agreement; the evening had _not_ been the success they had been hoping for.


	15. Midgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Anima travels to Earth, including one very specific place on Earth. This settlement does not exist in a form that we recognise (officially settled much later, although no doubt people were in the area for millennia), but because of the power of Allspeak whatever name it is known by 5000 years ago is automatically going to translate into one you will recognise (or at least be able to Google). 
> 
> Same with using kilometres to judge distance. There's probably an Asgardian measure that they use, and another measure that the person she speaks to uses, but that's not going to help any of you know how far she travelled so it's automatically going to translate into kilometres.
> 
> FYI: If you judge distance in miles, its about 745 of them. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

The party ended at three o’clock in the morning. King Grundroth and his men bid the King and his granddaughters a polite goodnight and headed to where their assigned rooms in the palace were located. They reached the rooms and, without discussion, all filed into the King’s chamber and shut the door behind them. 

“She’s bloody Jotun!” Raze exclaimed.

“Blue, and cold, and icy as a snowstorm!” General Thrym said, throwing his hands up high. “How does something like this even happen?!”

“That’s a very good question,” Goupr, his second in command, said thoughtfully. “Odin must have more Jotun coding in him than we thought.”

“Enough to make a fully Jotun woman? That’s impossible, how would he carry something like that without showing any sign himself?” Thrym said.

“Queen Bestla must be highly skilled,” Raze said. “Do you think she would – ?”

“No. She made a vow, and besides, she’s broken, everyone knows that. Can’t have any children, well, other than the three she did have but they practically don’t count,” Thrym said. “They’re only boys, and Asgardian at that, and did you see Odin? He’s much shorter than I thought he’d be, almost a midget.”

From the corner where he had taken a seat, King Grundroth began to chuckle.

They turned to him and waited for the joke.

“Queen Bestla is not to be credited with this,” he said at last in his deep, echoing tone, “she had Asgardian sons for an Asgardian man, and one who didn’t deserve such a momentous honour. But she didn’t create a daughter through a son, that would require manipulation of code beyond even Farbauti’s skill.” Each of the men in the room drew in a long breath of awe at the sound of Farbauti’s name; she was legend for the skill of her children. “No,” Grundroth continued, “Princess Nal’s creation was an accident of magic. I read the reports when it happened, I assumed that she wouldn’t be full Jotun, but I was mistaken, the power of Yggdrasil split the mongrel child into three pure ones.”

“Is she really Jotun then?” Raze asked.

Grundroth smiled. “I believe so, fully Jotun and fully capable of birthing equally Jotun children, but raised on Asgard, where they treat conception as something that belongs between a woman and a single man.”

“Do you think she believes that too?” Thrym asked curiously.

“I think she’s been raised to it, and I think, as an Asgardian-raised Princess, she’ll do whatever her King tells her to do. What I need to do now is to convince him to tell her to marry _me_ ,” Grundroth said.

There was silence in the room as they all contemplated the meaning behind his words.

“The honour,” Goupr said at last, “every child fully yours.”

“Jotun don’t marry,” Thrym pointed out.

“I don’t see why they can’t, given that her own grandmother set the precedent,” Grundroth said. “Marriage is just a promise not to mate with anyone else, as far as I understand it. She’s familiar with the vows, she’s been raised to see them as normal, a betrothal is just a matter of convincing her grandfather, which I intend to try and do as quickly as possible.”

“So you intend to stay for a while?” Thrym asked.

“Overstaying our welcome will not be pleasantly received,” Grundroth said, “I will invite him to visit us, perhaps use some pretence of trade, and when we are able to speak face-to-face without interruptions I shall make my case. For now I am not worried, no one here is likely to seek a Jotun bride and Bestla will be doing her best to prevent a marriage anyway, no doubt she’ll be encouraging the Princess to begin gathering.”

“What if she does gather? She won’t make your children if she thinks she can make a better one without you,” Goupr asked.

“She’ll do as her vow commands; Asgardians set a great deal by their vows, and she has been raised to think like them,” Grundroth said. “A bride will suit me nicely, don’t you think?”

****

The day after the party, Anima was sitting in the Garden of Contemplation, so named for its quiet and peaceful surroundings, and stared moodily at the statue in front of her.

Bloody statue was going to outlive her.

That tree would as well.

That fountain wouldn’t need resealing until _at least_ three hundred years after she was gone.

In less time than it took the vines to reach the top of the pillars, no one would even remember that she had sat here, or even that she had existed at all.

Typical that the Asgardian’s worst nightmare, of living and dying before any of the other nine realms even grew old, was her reality.

No wonder nobody wanted to talk to her at the party. What was the point? Why get invested in someone who wouldn’t be there tomorrow?

“You look unhappy, Puppy, will you tell me what is wrong?” Loki asked, strolling up to her side.

Anima shrugged and pouted like a child. And didn’t she still feel like a child? Wouldn’t she always be a child to these people? 

Loki sat down on the bench beside her. “I’m very good at listening, you know, in fact I’m the God of Listening, so if you want to tell me what is wrong I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards.”

The corner of Anima’s mouth turned upwards. It was hard to feel down when Loki was around.

She reached up to her neck and undid the clasp on her mother’s necklace, well, hers, but it felt like her mother’s. To Anima, all three of the pendants felt like her mother’s original one.

“Father gave me this, the stones once sat in a pendant that my mother wore,” she said, showing it to him.

“I remember that pendant, this one's very pretty, and it was very thoughtful of your father to have it made for you,” Loki said.

“She was twenty three when she died,” Anima said.

“A tragedy, and a sacrifice that few could bring themselves to make,” Loki said.

“That’s three years away.”

Loki sighed gently and put an arm around her shoulders. “No, Puppy, it’s not. You will never have to make the sacrifice she did. You are going to live your whole life and die wrinkly and old in your bed.”

“And when I do, you will look the same,” Anima said, “and Father, my own father, will look the same. My grandfather and grandmother will look the same, and feel the same, and _be_ the same. It doesn’t matter if I live to be twenty three or a hundred and fifty, they will be the same.”

“Some things are more precious because we can’t keep them forever,” Loki said softly.

“I don’t want to be precious; I want to live for as long as my sisters. I don’t want people to ignore me and disregard me because I won’t be there tomorrow,” Anima said.

“No one ever disregarded your mother,” Loki said. “She wouldn’t let them.”

“I’m not her; I don’t know how to make them see me as anything other than a… a… a pet!”

She looked up at Loki with a glare. He shrugged, caught.

“In my defence: it really did suit you,” he said.

“In my attack: you could have found something else that suited me better,” Anima snapped.

Loki nodded. “Anima – ”

“I’m going, I don’t want to talk to you, the God of Listening is useless, what I need is the God of Kindness,” Anima said, rising from the bench and storming off.

Loki sighed and rose from the bench as if to go after her.

“Don’t,” Nal said from behind him. “Anima’s always been a sunny sort of a person. She won’t hate you forever, but she needs to hate someone right now and you made yourself an easy target.”

“I did, didn’t I? God of Targets, that’s me.”

“I’m going to plant the death flower in the Garden of Death, will you come?” Nal asked him.

Loki glanced back at where Anima had gone before turning back to Nal and giving her a nod. “Yes, my Princess, I will come.”

****

Anima stalked away back to her rooms. She was angry and she had nowhere to express it. No one here understood! No one here could possibly understand, they just didn’t see the world the same way. They pitied her, and it made her want to pity herself.

There was nothing wrong with being mortal. It wasn’t a weakness, it wasn’t a strength, it just _was_.

She reached the doorway to her bedroom and flung it open as hard as she could. It bounced off the wall with a satisfying bang, but then swung back quickly and forced her to dodge it, lest she break her own nose.

Anima let out a growl of frustration and pushed it shut firmly behind her. Then her eyes alighted on the tesseract sitting on the shelf.

She’d thought about it. She’d figured out how. She just hadn’t worked up the courage to do it.

Well screw that. Who had the time to waste? Not her, that was certain.

She grabbed her riding bag and shoved a few apples and some magical crystals inside, just in case they were needed, then she picked up the tesseract and pushed at it with her magic. It was already designed to assist in travel, so she didn’t have to push hard.

Midgard. She wanted to go to Midgard, to see her mother’s home.

“Take me there,” she whispered, although the tesseract needed no such verbal command. “Take me to Tønsberg.”

There was a rush of magic and a feeling of sudden movement, and Anima disappeared.

She arrived on a hillside, overlooking the sea. The air was cold and clear, and the land around her had been cleared of most of the trees. She could see the beginnings of forests in the distance. There were no structures she could see, not one single dwelling or hall, just the wind and the waves.

Anima looked down at the tesseract and gave it a little shake. “Did I do it right?” she muttered.

She stowed it in her bag and held her hands up at head height with her eyes closed. She didn’t need the tesseract to conduct a navigation spell regardng two points on the same realm.

She was a _little bit_ off in her destination – only twelve hundred kilometres off course – which wasn’t bad considering how far she’d travelled between the two realms. 

She knew how to teleport herself short distances, Uncle Loki had shown her years ago, but twelve hundred kilometres was quite a bit farther than her usual ‘other side of the palace’ attempts, and she felt nervous at the thought of trying it. Instead, she pulled out the tesseract again and regarded it thoughtfully.

It should be able to move her as far as she wanted, in fact it definitely could, but whether she could control it well enough was another question. She started to focus, closing her eyes and biting her lip as she gathered her magic together. 

“Baah”

Anima opened her eyes.

“Baah”

There was a sheep not far from her, calling out at her challengingly.

At least she thought it was a sheep. It didn’t look much like the sheep in Asgard, other than the basic shape, basic sound, and the even more basic presence of wool.

“Hey!”

She turned her head at the new sound. A young man was running towards her, waving his arms wildly. “Catch that sheep!” he hollered. 

Anima turned back to it. It was watching her carefully. She raised a hand and made a turning motion in the air.

The sheep turned and tried to run, but its legs waved about helplessly as it lifted off the ground and floated in the air.

The man reached her, panting heavily from his run. He bent over and sucked in several lungful’s of air.

“Thanks so much, she likes to run and… run… far…” his voice trailed off as he saw the sheep gently twisting in the air.

“Where do you want me to put it?” Anima asked.

The young man did not turn his face away from the sheep, but his eyes slid sideways to look at her.

“I thought you threw a rope,” he said, his voice squeaking and breaking on the last word.

Anima shook her head. “I didn’t have a rope,” she said.

He slowly straightened up and started backing away. “You can keep him, my lady, have him with my compliments, if you’ll let me be.”

“Why wouldn’t I let you be?” Anima asked, utterly confused. “Do you have a rope? Yes? Good, tie it around its neck so I can let it down.”

His hands trembled so badly that he dropped the rope twice before he was able to put it around the sheep’s neck. Anima let her spell fall, and the sheep was lowered onto the ground. Man and sheep both regarded her warily.

“Sorry to bother you,” Anima said, “I was just trying to get to my mother’s home, but I got a bit waylaid and ended up here. Where am I?”

“You’re… you’re by the village of Bouvinda, the people of the white cows,” the young man said.

“That doesn’t help me,” Anima said. “But thank you, I need to be going.”

“Are you a tree fairy?” he asked. 

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because you’re the same colour as the trees,” the young man said bluntly. 

“I’m Anima,” Anima said, “daughter of Odin, granddaughter of Bor, King of Asgard.”

“I’m Senan,” said Senan, with a slightly disbelieving look. “I’m in charge of the sheep.”

Senan looked about eighteen years old and was five foot six inches tall. He had brown hair, pale skin, and quite bright, blue eyes. He was dressed in clothes sewn together from skins and fur, and around his neck hung a carved stone on a leather cord. He wasn’t _filthy_ exactly, but there was a definitely impression of weekly baths rather than daily.

“Oh it _is_ a sheep,” Anima said. “I wasn’t sure, the ones back home are whiter and fluffier, and have less impressive horns.”

“Oh yes, it’s a sheep. So you aren’t here to steal any sheep then?” Senan said, sounding bolder now that she had denied fairyhood.

Anima shook her head. “No! Why would I want to steal sheep? Who goes around stealing _sheep_?”

Senan shrugged. “Half the men in the village over the hill will give it a crack if they think they won’t get caught. That’s why I had to catch this one, I’ve lost two sheep already this spring and my master will beat me silly if I lose another one.”

“Your master?”

“Yes, he’s not a bad sort of a man, but knows what’s his and he likes to keep it that way.”

Senan started walking back over the hills, Anima began walking with him automatically.

“Is your master a powerful man?” she asked.

Senan nodded. “The most powerful in the area, except for the King.”

“You have a king?”

“Of course, he rules from the sea to the where the river forks. His hall is halfway between the two. My master watched over the east for him, and another lord watches over the west. So your grandfather must have his lands a very long way away from here, otherwise he couldn’t be a king as well.”

“And you watch over the sheep,” Anima said, ignoring his obvious attempt to pry.

“You say you’re not a fairy, but I’ve never seen anyone dressed as finely as you. I don’t even know what that skirt is made of, although it looks a bit impractical,” Senan said. “None of the women I know wear skirts that go to the ground. You’ll catch in the shrubs.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Anima said. “But where I’m from this is what women wear, at least, when they’re not doing anything in particular.”

“I’ve never had time to not do anythin' in particular,” Senan said. “Must be nice.”

Anima paused. “It can be wasteful,” she said, “wasteful of time, and time is precious.”

Senan shrugged. “If I had a moment where I could do nothin' in particular, I’d spend it on my back lookin' up at the clouds.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes clouds are worth lookin' at.”

Anima started to laugh, but he didn’t seem offended.

“How far away is your mother’s home?” he asked her. “Can I walk you there?”

“It’s twelve hundred kilometres away,” Anima said.

“Oh easy, just a quick afternoon stroll then,” Senan said.

She laughed again. “I told you I miscalculated,” she said. “Although I think I know what I need to do, so I had better be going. The sun is setting over there and I don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

Senan shrugged. “Will you come back and visit me?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Anima smothered her smile as best she could as she pulled out the tesseract. “Maybe,” she said and concentrated.

In the blink of an eye she vanished in front of him.

Senan stared at the place she had been, in shock.

“She _was_ a fairy,” he breathed, “and a Princess as well.” He turned and ran as fast as he could back to his village. “If I get home and me father’s long dead of old age I’ll never hear the end of it.”

****

Anima reappeared on a different shoreline. The sun, which had been low in the sky where she was before, was now almost set.

She looked around her in confusion. There was nothing of note that she could see, no large halls or signs of advanced civilisation.

She stowed the tesseract again and held up her hands. This time her navigation spell confirmed that she was exactly where she had been aiming for.

Father had told her that her mother had come from a mid-sized town with a thriving industry and a very advanced magical school, but there was nothing of the sort anywhere to be seen.

She saw a light in the distance and headed towards it. Maybe the bulk of Tønsberg was further over the hill.

As she drew near though, her puzzlement only grew. There was a settlement, but it was made of four single-room huts of mud and straw. There was a single fire in each, the light of which spilled through the doorways, which were blocked with hung skins.

“Hello?” Anima called out.

There was movement from within the nearest hut. The skin was pushed aside and a man appeared, holding a spear with a stone head. He looked about forty-five and his clothing and general hygiene were similar to Senan’s. His skin was the same brown colour as Anima’s and his eyes, as far as she could see, were blue.

When his eyes focussed on her, he fell backwards with a cry of fear. 

“Ghost! Ghost!” he screamed. “Be gone! Leave us! By the Gods, be gone!”

“What?” Anima asked. “I’m not a ghost, I’m just, I’m just… visiting?”

He waved his spear at her threateningly. “Be gone, spirits save us, be gone!”

He sounded terrified.

Anima held up her hands in a surrender motion. “Please,” she begged, “I’m not a ghost, I just wanted to see my mother’s home, but I think I’ve got the wrong place.”

“Yrsa?”

Anima turned at the sound of the new voice. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “My mother’s name was Yrsa!”

The new speaker was a woman. She looked to be in her mid-forties as well, and she was staring at Anima suspiciously.

“Yrsa left us and never came back,” she said.

Anima looked around her again in confusion. She had found the right place, but where was the school? Where was the _town_?

“She… she died,” Anima said. “That’s why she didn’t come back. “She died in the war.”

“I remember the war,” the woman said. “Great Titans from the sky above coming down and killing us. They destroyed everything, killed everyone. Are they dead now? Did the gods win?”

Anima nodded slowly. “The Titans are contained,” she said. “But, Father said there was a town here. He said my mother learned at a school for magic.”

The woman let out a barking laugh, filled with cynicism. “There was, and she did. Then it was all destroyed. The whole damn realm was almost destroyed, and then the Titans retreated and the gods took to the stars to chase them away, and no one ever came back. We buried our dead, a whole damn town’s worth, _and_ the villages around us, and then we had to start again. So here we are, without our magic users, without our machines or luxuries, without any help from the gods, just our own hands and a lot of work.” She looked more closely at Anima’s dress. “I used to own a dress that fine, tore it up for bandages, now I wear leather and I’m proud to do so. Go back to the gods, child of Yrsa, go and tell them that we don’t need them.”

Anima swallowed hard. There was a lump in her throat. Her father had told her that things weren’t the same on Midgard, but he never told her that they had been abandoned, left alone to pick up the pieces of the Titan’s war.

“No magic at all?” she asked.

The woman shook her head. “They all died to save us. No one here has magic, no one was _left_ , although maybe one of the young ones will be born with it, one day. We tell them stories about it in case it happens so that they know what to look for, but there’s been nothing. For now we use our backs and our hands. We don’t need anything else.”

Anima turned and looked at the man, who had been standing silently while the woman spoke. “You knew my mother too, didn’t you? That’s why you thought I was a ghost.” 

He stepped forward with trembling legs. “She was my betrothed,” he said. “But she went to fight and met the gods. They turned her head away from her home. She _left_ us, she left _me_. Her father promised her to me.”

“Ew,” Anima said before she could stop herself, “maybe she should have been given the choice of who to marry herself.”

The man drove his spear into the ground at her feet threateningly. “You need to leave,” he said. “We don’t welcome the gods here.”

Anima stepped back away from him, suddenly nervous. She wasn’t sure that she could teleport or raise a shield against him in time.

“As you wish,” she said instead, backing away.

He and the woman glared at her as she backed away into the darkness.

Anima made her way quickly back to the shore and stopped in front of the waves. Tønsberg had been destroyed, and so completely that the remains of the people could fit into four little mud huts. But surely that didn’t mean the whole of Midgard had been so badly damaged?

Then again, Senan had clearly belonged to a similar society. His clothes and the way he acted around her made that clear, and he lived a very long way away from what used to be Tønsberg.

Anima pulled out the tesseract and concentrated. She wanted to see what the rest of the realm was like.


	16. Death, Souls, and Marriage Prospects

Nal and Loki walked through the gardens together in silence. Loki was feeling subdued, perhaps for the first time in his life, whereas Nal was busy watching the potted plant in her arms with intense concentration.

She had elbow length gloves on, and a mask and eye-glasses were in her pocket.

“It sprouted in the pot right away,” she said after a few minutes. “I didn’t know the leaves were going to be black.”

“The world I got it from is primarily in darkness most of the time, “Loki said,” I suppose it blends in rather well.”

“Interestingly, the little yellow spots on the tips of its leaves glow in the dark,” Nal said. “I think they also give off a perfume, but it’s too little to be effective right now. I raised it in an isolated space in the greenhouse though, just to be safe.”

“Good thinking. Will it be alright in the garden? It won’t kill any of the other plants?” Loki asked.

Nal smiled. “Survival of the fittest in the deadliest garden there is,” she said. “It will be alright, or it doesn’t belong there.”

They made their way up the slope to the locked gates of the Garden of Death.

It was the only garden Hela voluntarily went into. Locked against the majority of the court, Nal had put it together ten years ago, when she first decided that poison ivy should have a place in the world. Since then it had become a place of mild terror and was filled with every type of deadly or vicious plant that Nal could get her hands on.

They reached the gate and Nal put the pot down so that she could fish out the key.

“I’ve made a place for it already,” she said. “It’s a little isolated from the other plants, because this one kills more than just people and animals.”

She unlocked the gate, picked the pot back up, and together they walked inside.

The garden was filled with bright colours and heavenly scents. Deadly plants frequently used both methods to attract prey, and so the reality of the garden was nothing like what most people imagined it to be.

“Here we are,” Nal said as they reached a small, round garden bed surrounded by the cobblestone path.

“Can I help?” Loki asked her.

Nal shook her head. “I just thought you’d want to see the fruits of your adventures.”

He watched as she carefully dug out the soil, squeezed the pot, and let the plant fall into her gloved hands.

She turned it over and pressed it into the soil firmly. “I’ll just get the watering can,” she said, rising from the ground, “and then you can tell me how you plan to apologise to Anima.”

Loki waited like a naughty child as she fetched the water and wet the ground around the plant to help it settle in to the soil.

“I didn’t think that nickname through,” Loki said when she was done. “She was only two when I first did it, and everyone around her was treating her like a new pet, not a child.”

“So you were mocking _them_ not her?” Nal asked, not sounding particularly impressed.

“I _was_ but then the name kind of stuck.”

“She’s very hurt, and still hurting,” Nal frowned in sudden thought. “She’s… a very long way away from here.”

“What do you mean? She’s run away?” Loki asked.

“No, she’s coming back, she’s just, she’s…” Nal’s eyes widened in surprise. “She’s on _Midgard_.”

_“WHAT?!”_

“She’s on Midgard.”

“That’s brilliant! She finally teleported! I’ve been telling her for years to cut loose with her powers. I knew she could do it, I knew she was strong enough.”

“Relax, I’m pretty sure she used the tesseract,” Nal said.

“Oh.”

“She always gets extremely nervous when working with highly powered magic.”

“She shouldn’t; she was built to be magical. Bor named her the Goddess of Magic and, although it kills me to say it, I don’t think he’s actually wrong.” Loki said.

Nal rolled her eyes. “Every single scholar in the whole of Asgard says there has never been a non-Asgardian god. Anima is not going to be the first, and neither am I, despite what King Bor says.”

Loki pulled a face. “I disagree,” he said. “I think she is the Goddess of Magic – and who more fitting than a Mortal, with the power they used to wield? – and you… you…”

“Goddess of Winter is the title King Bor chose,” Nal said. “But I’ve heard there was a God of Winter already.”

“Yes, Hodr, blind God of Winter and of pissing people off; he was a bit of an arse,” Loki said. “But he died a thousand years ago, and Yggdrasil has been known to recreate gods when needed. That’s why there were two Gods of Archery, an old one and a new one – although why we needed another archery god I’ll never know – either way it was the same power, you could tell, and Hodr is dead, _that_ means there’s an opening, and I am convinced that one day you will fill it.”

“I hope you won’t be disappointed if I don’t,” Nal said.

“I can’t be, because you will,” Loki said. “Are you certain that Anima doesn’t need any help?”

“She’s not asking for any,” Nal said as they walked back towards the palace. 

“I’m glad she’s off having an adventure,” Loki said. “Everyone should have an adventure or two, and honestly, I think she should have started years ago.”

“And what about me?” Nal asked. “Should I have an adventure?”

Loki grinned at her. “Do you want to?” he asked. “We could go up to the mountains and see if there are any trolls about.”

“I don’t want to fight a troll,” Nal said. “But I’d like to visit Vanaheim. I’ve heard that the forests in the far west are so thick that the daylight disappeared entirely.”

Loki shrugged. “I’ve seen it, or rather, I _didn’t_ see it, because it was dark. It’s a bit boring really.”

“Well I haven’t seen it,” Nal said, “and I want to.”

“Well then,” Loki said with a smile, “I guess I’ll just have to find a way to arrange it.”

****

Daianya knocked on the door to Lord Afred’s rooms and waited patiently to be admitted. She was, thankfully, back to normal after the previous night. Anima’s spell had held perfectly, keeping every last strand of hair in place until it was time to go to bed. Only then did she release the spell, and only then had Daianya’s hair sprung free in a sudden explosion of curls.

“How are you ever going to get a helmet over all that?” Nal had asked her as she’d sighed and tried to tie it up for bed.

“I have no idea,” she had replied.

Today it was as if her hair was punishing her for trying to restrain it. It would _not_ stay in its ties, and it was so thick and curly it added almost six inches to her height. 

She looked around her as noise from within told her that someone was heading to the door. There was a portrait of her great grandfather not far down the corridor. It was from him that she got her mane of hair. His fiery red hair was poking out from beneath his helmet, and his beard was braided into three thick plaits. 

The door opened and Marda gave her a bow in greeting. 

“Welcome, your Grace, please come inside,” she said, backing away to let Daianya enter.

Lord Afred was sitting in one of the big armchairs by the window. He rose as she entered and bowed deeply.

“Your Grace,” he said.

Daianya smiled at him kindly. A large part of her training with the mind healers had stressed the importance of acting kind and approachable, otherwise the patients had a hard time trusting the healer enough to let them help.

“My father told me that you were an old friend, my Lord,’ she said, giving him a bow in turn. “I am very pleased to meet you.”

Lord Afred smiled a little uncomfortably. “Prince Odin is indeed an old friend, we studied law together, and practiced the bla-ade.”

His voice stumbled slightly on the word and his smile became fixed. Daianya could already see the tears in his soul. They were deep, and slowly fraying deeper.

“Let me help you,” she said. “I can make the flashes of bad memories stop happening. Your soul is torn and you need to repair it.”

He couldn’t seem to hear her. His eyes were focussed on something far away, and his hands had begun to shake.

“Father?” Marda said. “Father, please, it’s alright, please just relax, you are safe here.”

She went to put her hands on him, to offer comfort as his breathing turned to rapid pants.

“No.” Daianya said, her eyes already starting to glow. “Leave him. I must work.”

Her voice had begun to sound strange; it sounded like two voices were speaking instead of one. Marda backed away quickly.

Daianya took a slow breath in and reached for Yggdrasil. 

In the ten years since she had first called upon the world tree and taken her god form, Daianya had learned a great deal about it. She knew what it felt like, and she knew how to call it to her in greater or smaller quantities as required. She could see souls or heal them depending on her will.

Her god form was unchanged from that first day. Others, like Hela, Bor and Odin had god forms which changed their entire appearance. They even called armour to them, which in their case made sense given what type of gods they were. Daianya’s clothing did not change; it didn’t need to, to do what she did. Her eyes glowed orange, her hair crackled with sparks of orange power and her features, well, they didn’t _change_ exactly, but they became more unworldly all the same. There was an uncanny smoothness to them that spoke of the _other_ branches of Yggdrasil, the ones the spirits walked.

She reached out with her power and began to pull the torn edges of the soul back together. Slowly Lord Afred’s breathing calmed, his hands became still, and his eyes returned to the world in front of him.

“I feel…” he started to say. “I don’t know how to describe it. I feel at peace, I feel _more_ than at peace.”

Daianya finished healing the last tear; she could see the scars they had left behind.

“You won’t have bad memories intruding in to your thoughts anymore,” she said. “But they are still there, in the past where they should be. I strongly advise you seek a mind-healer to help you make peace with them, the feeling of a newly healed soul won’t last forever.”

He and Marda were both staring at her, which was normal following one of her soul-healings. Daianya had never looked in a mirror while calling on Yggdrasil, but she’d been described often enough that their reaction didn’t surprise her. “My Lord?” she added.

Lord Afred shook himself and stopped staring. “I’m sorry, your Grace, a god in full form is quite a sight. Yes, I understand, I will seek out someone to talk to, to make peace with my memories so that I may heal my mind as well as my soul. Thank you, thank you very much.”

Daianya gave a bow of her head in acknowledgement, as Marda stepped away to a side table and returned with a tray of cups and tarts.

“Will you stay and have a drink with us, your Grace? We have some Vanaheim tea and lemon or raspberry tarts.”

“I would be honoured,” Daianya said, “especially if they are accompanied by a story or two of my Father’s childhood.”

Lord Afred’s eyes twinkled. Now that he was no longer plagued by the intrusion of harsh memories he looked years younger and with a little bit of troublemaker sprinkled in for good measure.

“Has he ever told you about the times he and some friends went up to the long river to swim naked and almost got dragged under by some mermaids? Well, we thought they were mermaids, but it turns out we were _badly_ mistaken.”

Daianya pressed her lips together hard in an effort not to start laughing. “No, he did not,” she said instead, “and I’d love to hear all about it.”

****

Malekith reached the King’s office door and glared at the servant standing in front of it. The servant gave him a bow and disappeared inside to tell King Bor that his visitors had arrived.

“He will make us wait,” Algrim said quietly.

Malekith nodded curtly. He suspected as much himself; the disrespect was part and parcel of dealing with Asgard.

To their mutual surprise the door opened again within seconds and the servant retuned. He held the door open for them and bowed a second time. “His Majesty asks that you enter,” he said.

Malekith was instantly suspicious. ‘Asks’? Not ‘bids’ or ‘demands’?

He walked inside, followed by Algrim and was further surprised to see the office lighting had been dimmed.

“King Bor,” he greeted.

Bor was standing by his desk. He gave Malekith a shallow bow, which Malekith returned, still suspicious.

“King Malekith, I hope you and your men are well?” Bor asked.

“We are,” Malekith said. “And yourself? After the feast last night?”

“I am always well after a feast, that’s why I love them so,” Bor said. “I wanted to speak to you before you left, it’s in regards to the spoils of war.”

It took a great deal of control for Malekith to remain outwardly calm. The spoils of war should have been distributed years ago, and yet suddenly they were being offered without any pressure at all.

“I wasn’t certain what you and your men would prefer,” Bor continued. “Is it gold? Or jewels? Or something else?”

“Gold will be fine,” Malekith said.

Bor nodded. “I was hoping you’d say as much, as we already have it in the treasury. I’ll have it sent to the Bifrost then to go back with you.”

“Do you wish to discuss the amount?” Malekith asked, his voice turning slightly hostile.

Bor shrugged. “It’s a decent amount, more than enough for your men,” he said.

“You are not the one who may judge what is enough for my men,” Malekith said. 

“Would you prefer I gave you nothing?” Bor asked. 

Malekith almost reached for his blade, but Algrim shifted behind him and he stopped himself just in time. Nevertheless, Bor had seen the aborted hand movement and a smile began to creep over his face. 

“Try it,” he whispered softly. “Try _me_.”

Malekith let his hands fall to his sides empty, they both knew who would win in a fight between them. They both knew what Bor was capable of on the battlefield, and they both knew why.

“There is another thing,” Bor said, “perhaps something more important than gold.”

“And what is that?” Malekith asked sourly.

“An alliance; something a bit more permanent than a mutual enemy now vanquished,” Bor said.

Malekith just barely avoided rolling his eyes. “Oh?” he asked, not trying to hide the scorn in his voice.

“On Asgard we seal our alliances with marriages,” Bor said.

“You want a dark-elf bride for your son?” Malekith asked. “Makes sense, he’s had children of three of Yggdrasil’s branches, they already call him Allfather for it, a fourth would only increase his reputation.”

Bor shook his head. “No, dark-elf blood will not be entering my royal line, but if you are open to an alliance through marriage, my granddaughter Nal is now of age, and you know how Jotun are when it comes to new environments, they adjust very quickly. She would do well on Svartalfheim.”

Malekith took a very deep, slow breath. “First you insult me by deciding what my men should receive, and now you do so by offering me a _Jotun_ instead of an Asgardian? Am I making an alliance with Jotunheim?”

Bor grunted in annoyance. “She’s Asgardian-raised, she’s my acknowledged granddaughter, I’m offering you a great honour.”

“You are offering me scraps,” Malekith hissed. “You may as well have offered me the mortal, she won’t last long but at least she’s prettier.”

Bor shrugged. “If that’s what you want,” he said.

Malekith turned on his heel. “What I _want_ is for Asgard to burn to the ground,” he snapped over his shoulder as he stormed out.

Bor rolled his eyes. 

“Dramatist,” he said.

It appeared that Nal’s potential betrothal to Malekith was off the table.

He turned and looked at the invitation on his desk, sealed with the royal seal of King Grundroth of Jotunheim. It was asking if Bor would like to visit Jotunheim to discuss ongoing trade agreements. It didn’t make mention of Nal at all, but Bor was not so stupid as to miss what lay between the lines.

“She’d probably be happier there anyway,” he said to the empty room.

Assuming the trade deal was a good one, of course, Bor did not intend to sell his granddaughter cheaply; Princesses were never cheap.


	17. The Last of the Black Sheep

Pyramids... Temples... Cities of Stone... Huts... Stone spears... Furs... Farms... Hunting...

Anima zipped from place to place, continent to continent, everywhere she went the remains of humanity was piecing itself back together piece by agonisingly slow piece. Some places had thriving cities whereas others had clearly suffered far more devastation, but all of them had the same thing in common.

Magic was _gone_. To the younger mortals it was already just stories told by their elders. In some places there were no elders left, and the stories were wilder and more fantastical for lack of eyewitnesses. 

It felt so wrong. Anima had been raised hearing stories of the magical mortals. All the greatest spell casters had been mortal. They had lived in towers of light and channelled vast amounts of power as though it were nothing. Vanir sorcerers came to Midgard to learn from them, and had stayed for a dozen generations before they had learned everything the mortals picked up as easily as breathing.

But now… the most advanced technology they had managed to create without magic was to smelt bronze, and even then only in some places, even more were still carving stone and napping flint.

Anima travelled from place to place for hours, searching for even one pocket of mortal advancement left. If it was here, then it was well hidden. All she got for her troubles was a deep, heavy feeling in her heart.

With a sigh she held the tesseract and activated it again. When she arrived she blinked in confusion for a second. She had arrived back at the first place she had visited, and was once again standing by the sea. The sun was just rising over the ocean, bathing the water in light.

 _I must be tired,_ she thought.

 _It’s almost bedtime, I’m not surprised,_ Daianya answered her.

 _Come home, Anima,_ Nal added.

Anima sighed. She should just leave; there was nothing for her here.

“You came back!”

She turned. Senan was standing behind her. He did not look well. He looked like he had been very badly beaten.

“What happened to you?!” Anima asked.

“Well, I may have mentioned that I met a fairy princess and my Lord took exception to my tale,” Senan said. “He had me beaten for spreadin’ lies.”

Anima’s face darkened, making him stumble back and put his arms up.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t realise I wasn’t meant to say anythin’!”

“I’m not mad at you!” Anima said. “I’m bloody furious with your master.”

Senan lowered his hands and shrugged. “Oh, well, if you must be mad at him, go right ahead, but then again he’s a close ally of the King so maybe being angry at him isn’t the best idea.”

Anima’s eyes slid across at the village in the distance.

“Tell me, Senan? Senan. Tell me what you know about giant purple Titans from the sky.”

Senan’s face screwed up in confusion. “Nothin’?” he offered, “never heard of them.”

“You don’t know any stories about Titans?” Anima asked.

Senan shook his head. “My Dad never said anything about Titans. Are they your enemy?”

“They were,” Anima said. “They attacked Midgard, that’s the name of this realm, but they were fought off by the mortal sorcerers and the gods.”

“Sound like quite a tale,” Senan said. “There’s a sorcerer living up in the forest; he can tell the future by having visions. He might know somethin’ about your Titan enemies.”

“Can you show me?” Anima asked.

Senan began to walk towards the forest. Anima noticed as they made their way across the grassland that he was limping slightly.

“What did you father think of you getting beaten?” she asked.

“He said I shouldn’t tell such tall tales,” Senan said. “He’s not a bad father, but he’s not one for speakin’ up. My biggest problem is I can’t _stop_ speakin’ up.”

“It might be best for your health not to mention that I came back,” Anima said.

Senan looked across at her; his blue eyes twinkling. “You want to be my own private secret? I suppose I can stop talkin’ if the request comes from a fairy princess.”

“I’m not a fairy,” Anima said.

“So you say, but you talk of magic and realms like it’s nothin’, and fairies lie, everyone knows that, so it’s likely you’re lying about being a fairy,” Senan said, “makes sense.”

Anima started laughing. Senan was nothing like the men of the Asgardian Court. His speech was rough and a little bit blunt, but quite charming despite it, or maybe because of it.

“How old are you, Senan?” she asked.

“Eighteen, I think, my father lost count after fifteen, but then to be fair so did I,” Senan said. “I could be seventeen or nineteen. If you listen to my sister I must still be five, but I personally find that a bit unlikely, what with the hair on me chin.”

Anima squinted. “What hair?” she asked.

“Rude!” Senan exclaimed. “It’s there on me chin.”

Anima looked closer.

“All right,” Senan added. “So it’s a bit fair right now, but it’s thicker than a five year old’s, I promise you that.”

“You look like a young man,” Anima said, “not at all like a five year old.”

“Good, it’s took a long time to get this old, I’d hate to find myself a child again,” Senan said.

“A long time?” Anima asked. “Eighteen is a long time?”

“It certainly seemed that way. I’ve been watching the sheep since I were nine, they don’t do much, so it’s been a bit of a slog,” Senan said.

“You’ve never done anything else?” Anima asked.

“I’ve gone to the festivals, and seen in the new sun each year, but no, I’ve always watched the sheep,” Senan said.

“Wouldn’t you rather have an adventure?” Anima asked.

He looked across at her. “You offerin’, fairy princess?” he asked. The twinkle was back in his eye.

Anima felt her cheeks suddenly blush. “I…I… ah,” she said.

Senan grinned a thoroughly cheeky grin and winked at her. “They warned me about the fairies stealin’ me away, they never said nothin’ about them stammerin’ nervously first.”

“I’m not nervous,” Anima lied. 

“Sure,” Senan said. “I believe you.”

“I’m not!” Anima insisted, but broke off as they reached a clearing in the woods.

“There he is,” Senan said, “the sorcerer.”

The sorcerer was an old, bent man with half-blind eyes and hands which shook. Anima noticed that Senan was hanging back at the edge of the clearing.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. 

“The village folk say he’ll curse you if you bother him,” Senan said.

“You don’t seem the type to listen to stupid rumours,” Anima said.

“I don’t believe it myself, but if someone were to see me visit him I’ll be beaten again, or maybe even banished for fear I’ll bring the curse back into the village,” Senan said.

Anima looked worried. “Maybe you had better go then, before someone sees you,” she said.

Senan shook his head. “I’ve always wanted to talk to him anyway, and now that I have a fairy princess at my side I’ve finally got me chance,” he said.

“I’m not a fairy princess,” Anima said.

“Suuurrre,” Senan answered.

Anima walked towards the man’s hut. It was built of sticks and mud, and was starting to fall down from disrepair.

“Hello?” she called out.

“Hello? What kind of a greeting is that?” the sorcerer said.

“A polite one?” Anima answered. “I’ve come to ask you a question.”

“You’ll meet a young man with a steady job who’ll take care of you and give you many fine sons and daughters,” the sorcerer said.

Senan leaned into her view and gave her a cheerful wave.

Anima ignored him, although the blush that had returned to her cheeks. “I _wanted_ to ask you about the war with the Titans.”

The old man stilled.

“That’s an entertaining tale, girl, nothing more,” he said.

“No it’s not!” Anima said. “Everywhere I go people tell me it wasn’t real, but it was. My mother _died_ to protect an entire realm. _It was real!_ ”

The man tilted his head as she spoke. He seemed to be listening to something other than her words. “You’re a sorcerer yourself, aren’t you?” he asked her. “You’re a child of magic.”

“Yes,” Anima said. “I’m mortal, and I have magic, but no one else here seems to.”

“Of course not, it was stripped from us, our strongest and most powerful all died to protect us. From the very old to the very young, one by one they all burned their lives to save ours,” he said. “No sorcerers left to have children, no magic left in the population. It makes sense: you stop the black sheep from breeding you’re going to end up with all white sheep.”

“And you?” Anima asked.

He sighed deeply. “I’m an old man with a dead family who lives in the woods. I’ve no magic, girl, I’m just different enough to be feared.”

“No magic? Then why’d you tell her she’d meet a man to take care of her?” Senan asked.

“What else does a girl want to hear? A kind man with a comfortable home is every young woman’s goal, who am I to tell her she ought to dream other dreams?” he said.

Anima sighed heavily. “I knew that the war had caused a lot of damage,” she said. “No one ever told me it was this bad. Centuries of knowledge have disappeared in a single generation.”

Senan shrugged at her words. “I mean, I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do about that,” he said.

“I’m not asking you to,” Anima said. “Right now I’m tired, and disappointed, and just a little bit depressed. I want to go home to bed, and once I’m rested I have a few questions for my father.”

Senan immediately sat down on the grass.

“What are you doing?” Anima asked.

“I wasn’t really watching last time because you took me by surprise. I’m not missing the full effect this time,” he said.

Anima pulled out the tesseract, looking down at her bag in order to hide her third round of blushing, really it was very embarrassing.

“Thank you for speaking to me,” she said to the old man. “What is your name?”

“Niler, son of Naler,” he said. “Now my father, _he_ was a sorcerer, and so was my brother, but I never had the skill.”

“Will you come and visit me again?” Senan asked.

Anima smiled in spite of herself.

“Maybe”

And then she vanished in a flash of light.

Senan turned to Niler and nodded at him. “She’ll be back,” he said.

Niler just huffed and shook his head at the confidence of youth.

****

The Asgardian ship exited the wormhole and came to a stop.

“Are we out of magic again?” Hela asked. 

They had been travelling for more than a month, tracking Thanos from system to system, always a few steps behind. Hela had even missed her sisters’ coming of age celebration, which she didn’t consider much of a loss, other than for the fact that Malekith had been invited and she’d wanted to compare casualty numbers. As near as she could tell the King of the Dark Elves had lost eighty percent of his men. Hela always admired large numbers of meaningless deaths. 

“Yes, your Grace,” the pilot said, “although the portal generator has already begun to charge.”

Hela looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which was in fact the case, but instead rose from her chair and headed, once again, to her quarters to wait out the recharging of the portal generator.

She had only just entered when there was a knock on her door.

“What is it?” she asked.

The door opened and Ragnar stepped inside. “I thought you’d want to know, the navigator says that the trail of portals has ended. We picked up engine residue heading into a nearby asteroid field; we think he’s in there.”

Hela pushed past him and headed back to the bridge.

“Show me,” she said as she arrived. The crew weren’t stupid enough to misunderstand her request.

“There,” the navigator said, transferring his screen to the larger front display. “It’s goes in, nothing more recent comes out.”

“Can we track in inside the asteroid field?” Hela asked.

“We should be able to, it’s an extremely large field, most of the asteroids are far enough apart to easily fly a ship through,” the navigator said.

“Then start,” Hela commanded. “We need to find Thanos as quickly as possible. He’s a formidable foe; if he gets away he will return with untold power.”

She shifted in her seat; to Ragnar’s eyes she almost looked aroused. Hela had always loved death in a way that reminded people of the most psychotic of murderers, which was fine by Ragnar, because that was a fairly apt description for him, most of the time, but her need for near constant death was beginning to become something of a concern inside of the little ship, with its limited crew numbers.

“Thanos killed a lot of our people,” Ragnar said, watching her reaction closely.

“Yes,” she said, not quite hiding her smile, “so much death.” 

“The wrong deaths,” Ragnar said. “We must avenge our fallen.”

Hela turned to look at him and for the first time since he began to serve her he felt a jolt of nervousness. “Of course,” she said, “our vengeance shall be mighty indeed; a fitting retribution for his failure.”

“Failure?”

“Yes,” Hela said with a smile. “In war you are victorious or you meet your death. He failed to win, so…”

Ragnar grinned. “I’ve heard he withstood a direct attack from Prince Odin,” he said.

“He did,” Hela confirmed, “although honestly it was close enough to have gone the other way, Father was just distracted at the wrong moment by that blast that nearly caused Ragnarok.”

“Was he the one that set it?” Ragnar asked as the other men made exclamations of shock.

Hela smiled. “He is, and when we find him we will show him why, when you go up against Asgard, you had better make sure you win.”

Ragnar gripped the handle of his sword, noting how the movement made Hela smile. “When we catch up with him I will remove his limbs one by one,” he promised, “and then I will slice his belly open, slowly, so that he lives through it, at least for a while, and while he is writhing on the ground in pain I shall sing Asgardian sagas and toast our victory in the war. I may even pour a little down his throat just to watch it spill out of the cut I’ve made in his guts.”

Hela rose slowly, silkily, and began walking back towards the crew quarters. “I would speak to you in private, Ragnar,” she said, licking her lips.

He followed her willingly, as he always had done. This time she led him, not to battle, but to a very different kind of blood rush.


	18. Like a Mortal

Daianya arrived at the barracks’ classroom a few minutes early, which was just as well because she was half carrying, half dragging a desk along behind her. A chair had been tied to it with a length of rope, and it was being dragged along behind her as she manoeuvred the desk into the room and began pulling it toward the back.

“What are you doing?” Brunnhilde asked her.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Daianya asked. “I’ve sat in your chairs long enough, I’m a fully grown adult and I need a chair and a desk to fit.”

It had been extremely humiliating sitting on the tiny chairs while the teacher had talked about the different kinds of blades. Daianya’s knees had been practically touching her chin.

She gave one last heave and pulled the desk into position. Then she set about untying the chair.

“I bet Commander Gunhild tells you off,” Brunnhilde said, leaning over the back of her chair to watch. “She doesn’t like trouble-makers.”

“Must hate you then,” Daianya said. 

Brunnhilde stuck her tongue out as Commander Gunhild entered the room. She saw Daianya’s desk immediately, but didn’t say anything.

“Today we will be going over the Dragonfang blade,” she said. 

Daianya sat down at her new desk and tried to look interested. It wasn’t that the Dragonfang blades were dull – far from it, a week ago she had been utterly absorbed in them – it was that they had been covering them since she had started classes and it didn’t look like they would be moving on any time soon.

Daianya had already finished every exercise in her workbook, and was halfway through the intermediate exercises for those same topics. 

Her mind began to drift as Gunhild spoke. She wondered whether she would be allowed to bring the more advanced work into the classroom so that she could work at her own pace.

“Daianya! What is the Dragonfang handle crafted from?” Gunhild called out; perhaps realising she didn’t have Daianya’s full attention.

“Jotunheim steel, wrapped with leather from the hide of Asgardian mountain cattle,” Daianya said.

Gunhild huffed and turned back to the rest of the class.

Maybe she should talk to them? Explain that she belonged in a more advanced class? Certainly for the theory lessons anyway, the junior class was covering things she’d learnt years ago, like spelling and arithmetic. Even the lessons on weaponry were overly simplistic to Daianya’s adult brain.

“Daianya! What material can a Dragonfang blade _not_ cut through?” Gunhild asked.

“Uru plate and the stone armour of the Elkinsa,” Daianya said.

She earned herself another huff, but it was hard to care. Daianya wanted to train. She wanted to be a Valkyrie, a _real_ Valkyrie, not a princess playing pretend. And because she wanted it to be real she didn’t want any special considerations when it came to her training.

Except, she kind of did; she was _bored_ sitting in class with the youngest trainees. They covered things so slowly.

“Daianya! What are the Dragonfang Blades based on?”

“The first Dragonfang sword, crafted from the bones of an extra-dimensional dragon, which still lies in the royal vault of Asgard and is carried into battle by the Valkyrie General,” Daianya said. 

Gunhild was practically glaring at her. Daianya tried to pay closer attention as the Commander went back to talking. She didn’t mean to disrespect her; Gunhild was a fierce warrior and a very good teacher, it was the topics themselves were the problem.

Gunhild turned back to face the class again, a question already forming on her lips, but seeing Daianya paying attention she switched targets immediately.

“Brunnhilde! Who was the first Valkyrie to wield the Dragonfang?”

Brunnhilde let out a loud moan and let her head fall against the desk. “I don’t remember,” she said. “I knew it yesterday.”

“And I expect you to know it tomorrow,” Gunhild said, “anyone else?”

The entire class all turned in their seats to look at Daianya.

“Anyone _else_?” Gunhild said again.

****

Several hours later, Gunhild’s class finally ended. They had covered Dragonfangs from every possible angle, or so Daianya desperately hoped.

“Daianya, stay behind, I would speak to you,” Gunhild said.

Daianya packed up her workbooks and ignored the looks of questioning accusation from the girls around her. Clearly they thought she was in trouble for something, as that was the usual reason someone was asked to stay back and speak to the teacher.

As she approached the front of the room to speak with Gunhild, General Solveig entered.

“Have you told to her yet?” Solveig asked.

“No, you are just in time,” Gunhild replied.

“Told her what?” Brunnhilde asked, popping up from behind her desk.

“Out, Brunnhilde,” Solveig and Gunhild said together.

Brunnhilde sighed heavily and began to leave.

“Should have stayed hidden,” Daianya said.

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes and left the room. The three of them waited until she was gone and then Gunhild shut the door behind her.

“I’ll cut right to it, you are not paying attention in my classes at all but you seem to know all the information anyway, how?” Gunhild asked, walking back to her desk. “It takes a full month to teach everything about Dragonfangs and you seem to already know it inside of a week.”

Daianya resisted the urge to shrug. 

“I matured at the rate of a mortal,” she said. “They learn things quickly – because they have to – and so did I. I finished the basics of medical training inside of three years, and then I channelled Yggdrasil and confirmed myself as a god so they sent me to the hospital in the main part of the city to learn about mind-healing, and I leant everything they had to teach me in another four years. Mortals wouldn’t be able to learn at the rate these girls do, they would be dead before they got to the second chapter. They have to learn, and retain, a lot of information very fast; I’m used to it now. I read the chapter on Dragonfang blades a few times over and now I remember it.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” Gunhild said, although Solveig looked thoughtful.

“It makes sense,” she said. “Mortals can’t take their time to learn things the way we do. They mature into adulthood and age into senility before we learn to talk properly, present company excepted. If your body had grown at a mortal rate but your mind remained Asgardian then I imagine you would be requiring special care at this point in your life.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, and I’m sorry for not paying attention. I was going to ask you if I might work independently when in your class. I won’t cause any disruptions,” Daianya asked.

Solveig started pacing around her slowly. Her eyes scrutinised Daianya from every angle.

“Tell me,” she said after a minute. “Do you climb the tower stairs like I asked you to?”

“Yes, General,” Daianya said.

“And your weights, you have increased your repetitions?”

“Yes, General.”

“How far can you run?”

“Fifteen laps of the training yard at full sprint, General.”

“When you started with us a month ago you could only manage three.”

“Yes, General.”

Solveig finished her circle and stood in front of Daianya again.

“I was expecting rapid progress in your physical training,” she said. “But then you are Aesir, and they are naturally athletic and naturally strong. It’s been a while since I had one to train and you are proving to be just as tough as they were. But I will tell you this: the Aesir I have trained did not do well in the classroom. They are excellent fighters – I can’t ask for better – but they struggle to understand tactics, they struggle to remember to switch to their steel daggers when the Dragonfang blades will be useless until _after_ they have made the first strike. I expected you to be similar, but now I see that your upbringing has made you not just as quick as a mortal to learn, but as creative as one too.” 

Daianya didn’t know whether to feel insulted or not as Solveig gestured towards the desk at the back of the room. “Creative thinking,” Solveig said, “a simple solution and yet one that many people would not think of.”

“I could take her in my specialised class,” Gunhild offered. “I teach war strategy and tactics to those who have a mind for it. You can work at your own pace while I teach the class, and see if there’s anything you can pick up at the same time.”

Daianya nodded quickly. “I would be grateful for the opportunity,” she said.

Solveig nodded. “Very well, but I still want you to attend lessons in the classroom, at all levels, you can work as quickly as you need to, but I don’t want people to think that you are getting special consideration because of who your grandfather is. I need these women to trust you on the battlefield, and they won’t do that if they think you are only there because of special privileges granted to you by your rank.”

“Thank you, General,” Daianya said.

Solveig nodded. “Now go to the yard for exercises; Gunhild can talk to you later about her class expectations.”

Daianya gave them both a bow and left. She was a little disappointed that she couldn’t stop attending at least one of the classes – ideally the youngest one – but she could see Solveig’s point. An army was a team, and if you couldn’t trust a member of your team then everyone was weakened.

****

Anima rose late and spent a good few minutes lying on her back staring at the ceiling. Yesterday had been a day of frustration, sadness and disappointment, which was a terrible way to start your adult life.

A memory of bright blue eyes came back to her, and she tried not to smile. There had been one thing that wasn’t so terrible, although even he had suffered just by meeting her.

She shouldn’t go back; he might get into even more trouble.

Maybe if she showed up at the village? Then everyone would know he wasn’t lying, well, he was lying about her being a fairy, although not really, because even though she denied it she was pretty sure he still believed it, so it wasn’t _lying_ lying, just not being right.

She sat up and looked over at the tesseract where it sat on her shelf.

“I should not be trusted with this much power,” she said to the room out loud. “Because I am _definitely_ going to abuse it.”

She rose and headed into her bathroom to get ready for the day. She had questions for her father regarding Midgard, and she wasn’t going to wait until he was free. Who had the time? Not her, that was for sure.

****

Odin was eating a piece of cake and looking over a report on the land Nal had been gifted. Yesterday morning, as soon as the sun rose, she had sent him a request for a meeting to go over everything so that she could get some advice regarding tenant management, and he had managed to fit her in for three days hence. In the meantime he was doing some quick research into exactly what Bor had given her.

He’d given her the area with the least profitable farms on it, which was something Odin had suspected. If Nal succeeded in turning the land productive and profitable then that was a good thing, but if she failed no one would be poorly affected other than the farmers themselves. Despite that, Odin still wanted to help her as much as he could. Land management was an important skill which could really help her one day, especially if she married a king or a prince.

Although he doubted it would help much if she married Malekith. The Dark World was not known for growing anything but fungus and mosses. 

There was a sudden suggestion of movement and Anima was standing in front of his desk. Odin yelped in surprise and threw up a shield of magic before he fully realised who it was.

“Oh, Anima, I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his spell. “How did you do that? The walls are spelled to prevent teleportation.”

“I know,” Anima said. “I used the tesseract; it doesn’t obey the normal rules of magic.”

“Oh. Is it safe?” Odin asked.

“Perfectly,” Anima said.

Odin smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, but if this is a test then I you will need to involve someone else, I’ve got a very busy day today.”

Anima sat down opposite him and put the tesseract in her bag.

“I went to Midgard,” she said bluntly.

At the sound of the name, Odin suddenly started to sweat. “You did?” he asked, trying to sound calm. “King Bor has declared Midgard off limits, how did you get past the Bifrost gatekeeper?”

Anima opened her mouth as if to tell him something, but then hesitated for a second, before finally speaking again and avoiding the question entirely. “It’s a ruin, Father, Midgard is a ruin. The people live in houses made of mud and they think magic is a myth to tell their children. What happened there? And why aren’t we helping them?”

Odin sighed softly. He’d known this day was coming, he should have expected it. After all, Anima was as tenacious as a hunting hound on the scent. She had always wanted to see Midgard and as much as he hoped she never would, it was always going to be a matter of time before she found a way to get around Bor’s ruling.

“The war lasted for fifty two years,” Odin said, “And for forty of those years it raged over Midgard. The Titans did not want to give any ground; they came in waves over and over again, pulling soldiers from all across their empire. By the time we managed to force them into a retreat Midgard was a wasteland. All the magical buildings were rubble, most of the non-magical ones as well. Some places fared better than others, but all lost people, and a lot of key people at that. They lost their thinkers and their intellectuals, because the Titans actively tried to kill them all. A stupid population is more easily oppressed, after all.”

“So why didn’t we help them?” Anima asked.

“We had to finish the war,” Odin said. 

“That’s stupid,” Anima said. “There were plenty of Asgardians not directly fighting; they could have tried to help.”

“The King ordered us to leave them alone,” Odin said. “Both during the war and after it was finished. He said they would have to fend for themselves. They are under Asgard’s protection, should anyone try to invade them, but that is all we will do.”

Anima scowled deeply. “So he just left them to suffer? Happy to run to the glory of war but doesn’t care even the slightest bit about its victims? He’s a fool,” she said.

“He’s the King,” Odin replied.

“And a fool”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Loki,” Odin said.

“What did mother think about King Bor’s decision?” Anima asked suddenly.

Odin paused. “She disagreed with it,” he said at last. “She wanted to go back and try to help them, once she had given birth.”

Anima nodded curtly. “I met a few people who knew her,” she said.

Odin’s gaze snapped back from wherever his thoughts had taken him. “Were they her family?” he asked. “Did they say?”

“I don’t know; they didn’t say. They looked like me,” Anima said, making a general gesture across her face to indicate her eyes and skin. “They weren’t happy to see me, they seemed angry at her for leaving.”

“She was fifteen when she left Midgard,” Odin said. “She wanted to hound the Titan army until they were no longer a threat.”

“How old was she when you met her?” Anima asked curiously. She had never asked her father before, as the way sadness always lined his face had made her reluctant.

“She was twenty,” Odin said. “She saved my life, and destroyed an entire Titan battlecruiser with a wave of her hand. I was in love before I even knew her name.”

“I’m sure she would have done something to help Midgard,” Anima said.

“Probably,” Odin replied, “but you cannot do anything. The King has made his decision. Midgard is to be left alone.”

Anima rose from her seat and reached into her pocket. “I understand,” she said, and vanished.

****

She reappeared in her bedroom and immediately pulled a face. “But I _don’t_ agree,” she added.


	19. The Sharing of Intel

Two days later, the girls finally had the chance to catch up over dinner.

“Commander Gunhild has set me new exercises in her class,” Daianya said. “She wants me to learn about troop movements and how to assess battlegrounds.”

“Talk to Father, he’s the God of War,” Nal said. “He’ll be able to give you some great advice.”

“I know, but I kind of want to do this by myself,” Daianya said. “Not everyone has the chance to sit down with a master strategist and learn from them. I want to be able to prove myself without such privilege.”

“Does anybody really think that?” Nal asked.

“So far only Tyr, who is also in her special class and who thoroughly approves of the idea,” Daianya said. “He says we should use every advantage we have to help us progress, as on the battlefield a commander who doesn’t use every advantage is a bad commander.”

“On the battlefield I would agree with him, but off it? I see your point that others might resent you for an unfair advantage,” Nal said. “If you are going to head the Valkyrie one day then your troops will need to respect you.”

“Why does everyone assume I’m going to lead the Valkyrie one day?” Daianya asked. “I’m joining them, I never said I wanted to lead them.”

“You are a Princess, of course people are going to assume that you will one day be in charge,” Nal said. “Father leads the army, and Grandfather rides at their head in battle. General Hymir has the position in peace time, but we all know who makes the decisions during war.”

“At least they caught on that you were too clever for your normal classes,” Anima said.

“I’m not too clever, I’m just faster than they expected,” Daianya said, “again.”

“You will always be faster than they expected because no one knows how mortals learn,” Nal said. “Remember that week we spent ‘learning’ to count.”

“That teacher was rubbish,” Anima said.

“I feel sorry for her,” Daianya said. “She was one of the best in the kingdom, she’d taught a number of noble children for centuries before Father engaged her services, and then she met us, and we learnt everything she had to teach us inside of a year.”

Every teacher the girls had ever had had made the same mistake at first. Asgardian children grew slowly, and so information was taught to them equally slowly. It was not uncommon to spend a month on a single – and simple – topic to ensure the information was truly absorbed.

The rapid growth of the girls had made this impossible, and the teachers of Asgard had been forced to adjust – some more successfully than others – to a much faster pace. They were also forced to discard a lot of their previous thinking about what was considered essential information. Was it strictly necessary to know how each individual rune reached its current shape? Not if you wanted to teach someone reading and writing of modern languages. Did a person need to know all seven hundred and fifty eight names for the known colours? Not unless they planned to be an artist, most people only used about ten names regularly.

Mortals didn’t learn everything to the greatest level of detail possible; they simply didn’t have the time. No, mortals learnt what they needed to know in order to live their lives, and then specialised in chosen subjects as their interests were piqued. A number of teachers came away convinced the girls would never be truly educated, but no one who spoke to them seemed to be able to tell the difference.

“People underestimate mortals all the time,” Anima said glumly, playing with her fork.

“People are stupid,” Nal said. “They should pay closer attention.”

“Speaking of playing close attention,” Anima said, cheering up a little. “At our Coming of Age feast, King Bor told Father than he wanted to marry Daianya to Prince Norbleen of Vanaheim.”

“I’ve heard rumours about him, apparently he’s exactly as selfless and noble as he acts,” Nal said. “You could do worse.”

Daianya looked down at her meal. “Oh? Did he mention a timeline?”

“A while away, it hasn’t even been suggested yet by either side, but he thinks it’ll help bind the realms together,” Anima said.

“As though Asgard and Vanaheim need binding,” Nal added. “They are our closest ally, and very similar in culture as well. There’s no tension there that needs alleviating.”

“There is with Svartalfheim,” Anima said, “which is where he wants to send you.”

There was silence at the table. Very slowly, the fire in the grate began to die.

“Nal, stop it, being cold is only comfortable for you,” Daianya said.

Nal scowled but the fire sprang back to life as the sudden cold in the room lifted.

“He wants to send me to the Dark World?” she asked. “To Malekith? That weird Elf with a massive inferiority complex?”

“That’s what he said. But on the plus side maybe Malekith won’t agree,” Anima said.

“Maybe I won’t,” muttered Nal.

“You have to, he’s the king, he can command anyone to do anything,” Daianya said.

“That doesn’t seem like a particularly good power for a king to have,” Nal said. “What if he orders everyone to kill themselves?”

“Then Father takes over because he’s clearly lost his mind,” Anima said.

Nal nodded, “So he doesn’t wield _ultimate_ power, it’s just where people draw the line.”

“I don’t think Father was going to stop him,” Anima said. “He did question it though, so maybe if you put up a big fuss he’ll listen.”

“Jotun aren’t meant to marry anyway,” Nal said, “that’s what Grandmother told me.”

“Grandmother is married,” Daianya pointed out.

“An anomaly,” Nal said. “Not the norm.”

“She still did it, and you are still a citizen of Asgard,” Daianya said. “If you refuse to obey the king he will banish you.”

“If I marry Malekith, then I’ll basically be banished from Asgard anyway,” Nal said. “I won’t do it.”

Anima nodded in agreement. “If he kicks you out of Asgard, I know a place we can go and live,” she said. “It’s not luxury, but the air is sweet, and there are sheep and cattle and farms.”

“We?” Nal asked.

“Do you really think we’d let you be banished alone?” Daianya asked. “Of course we’ll go with you. King Bor will have to make us all happy, or banish us all, there is no in between.”

“I’d better learn everything I can about farm management then,” Nal said. “I can’t imagine the king giving in. Where is this place that you know we can go?”

“Midgard,” Anima said.

Nal grinned as Daianya’s head shot up in surprise. “I knew you’d gone, what was it like?”

“ _I_ didn’t know, when did you go?” Daianya asked.

Anima shrugged. “A few days ago. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. Even their most advanced civilisation is primitive by Asgard’s standards. The Titans destroyed everything, it’s as though Midgard was never at equal standing with the other nine realms at all.”

“That’s depressing,” Daianya said.

“It was,” Anima said. “But there was some good there, like I said, the air is sweet, and fresh, and most of the people I spoke to were friendly.”

“That’s good,” Daianya said. “If they don’t mind us we can settle in wherever there’s space. I will learn how to build houses and Nal can farm the land.”

“This is just a fantasy,” Nal said.

“Of course,” Daianya replied, “But if things ever get really bad then you know we are with you all the way, even if we have to move to Midgard.”

“I’m planning to visit it again,” Anima said.

“In defiance of King Bor’s ban?” Daianya asked.

Anima shrugged. “I’ve already defied it once; as long as he doesn’t know then I don’t see a reason to stop.”

“Father has ordered the Bifrost Gate assessed by the palace engineers; does that have anything to do with you?” Nal asked.

“Maybe,” Anima said, “I may have given him the impression that I used the Bifrost.”

“But you didn’t,” Nal said.

“Of course not, I have the tesseract, that’s much better,” Anima said.

“Do you have a reason to go back?” Nal asked, watching her closely.

Anima dropped her gaze and blushed. “No,” she lied. 

Nal and Daianya exchanged knowing looks.

“We’ll find out eventually,”Daianya said.

“What are you planting on your land?” Anima asked Nal, changing the topic.

“Cacao trees,” Nal said, allowing the change with a slightly smug smile to indicate that she wasn’t fooled.

“Mmmm… chocolate,” Anima said.

“The land has a lot of rainfall and a fairly stable climate, but they’ve only tried to grow grain, which has been less than successful due to the soil composition. I think a change of approach is needed,” Nal said. “And there is a lot of money in Asgard since the end of the war brought back so many spoils, luxury goods are easy to sell right now.”

“Do cacao plants need lots of water?” Daianya asked.

“A good amount, yes, and in steady amounts. I think the land will be able to be converted with the minimum of effort, and will begin to yield crops in three to four years, maybe sooner, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself,” Nal said. “I have an appointment with Father tomorrow to discuss my ideas and see what he thinks.”

“When you are successful, can I have free chocolate?” Anima asked.

Nal smiled and rolled her eyes. “Just don’t eat the entire supply,” she said.

****

One Month Later.

Nal stood by the door to the flyer and waited politely for her father. Odin was checking with his secretary regarding some last minute papers he had to review before he could leave off for the day.

He finally finished talking and looked up at his daughter with a smile.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Nal gave him a polite smile and they walked into the flyer together and took their seats.

They were going to go and see her lands and review how the planting work was going. Odin had approved of Nal’s choice of cacao trees, and the work to make the land ready had begun almost immediately. A large greenhouse had been built using most of Nal’s savings and she had recently received a report that the seedlings had begun to sprout.

Her lands were quite far away so it was going to take them more than an hour to reach the greenhouse using the flyer.

Odin had taken quite an interest in her new endeavour, and had asked her if he might accompany her. Nal had been surprised but had agreed immediately. It was quite rare for any of them to spend any decent amount of time with their father. Odin almost ran the realm, at least, all the boring, logistics parts of it. King Bor was more interested in the bigger picture, ruling the courts, drafting new laws, making alliances, that sort of thing. Between the two of them, father and son had a prosperous and peaceful realm.

Of course, Hela was still busy tracking a Titan across the stars, so it was easier than it might have otherwise been.

The flyer took off, and Nal leaned her head back to enjoy the feel of the wind through her hair.

“How have you been?” Odin asked her.

“Well, Father, and you?” Nal replied.

“Well, well, I’m looking forward to leaving all my work behind for a day though,” Odin said.

Nal looked across at him with a smile. “I thought you _loved_ managing the realm?” she teased.

Odin laughed. “It’s a very important job which I take very seriously,” he said. “But it’s nice to leave it all behind for a day and relax; nothing to worry about but whether the plants are doing well.”

****

Back in the palace, Anima watched the flyer leave from her window. She was finally ready to make her move, and having her father leave the palace for the day was the perfect opportunity.

She never should have confronted him about Midgard. After having the Bifrost checked several times over and being assured by the engineers that no one had tampered with the lockout setting which prevented travel to Midgard, Odin had turned a much closer eye on his youngest daughter. Of course he had begun to suspect the tesseract; he’d known it was a teleportation device of some kind, but without asking her to hand it over for further study he did not know exactly how powerful it was. Anima had no intention of letting him find out either, so she had been on her very best behaviour for a full month.

If Anima were prone to exaggeration (which she absolutely, completely, _definitely_ wasn’t, no matter what her sisters might say), then she might have said that the month long wait was such agony it almost killed her.

With just a hint of a smile ruining her determined expression, she went to her jewellery box and pulled out the _other_ thing she had been working on instead.

It looked like a tooth on a leather cord, but it far more than that. It was, in fact, one half of a communication device. She had carefully drilled a hole in the top of the tooth and inserted a tiny crystal on which she had cast the spell, before filling in the hole to keep it safe and hidden. She had made the other half of the device her mother’s pendant, using the power-carrying capacity of one of the three emeralds.

She had written the spell herself, basing it upon a number of other, less powerful spells of communication which she had studied intensely.

Magic was just numbers after all. Activating the tesseract in order to travel caused it to run a string of numbers through the traveller so that they would arrive at the right place. In theory, with enough power the same spell could be cast by anyone to transport themselves from realm to realm even without the tesseract. Of course no one had that much power, but Anima could see the numbers as clear as day and had copied the part which enabled such incredibly long distances to be covered and woven it into her spell of communication.

But the only way to test it would be to deliver it to someone far away, so that she and they could talk.

Assuming they wanted to talk, of course. 

Anima was pretty sure he wanted to.

She put the tooth in her pocket and picked up the tesseract from her shelf; time to find out.

****

Daianya held her sword up in the defensive position and waited for her opponent to attack. Her opponent was a young women from the senior class, and she was absolutely going to win this fight. It was just a matter of how long Daianya could last with her whopping almost-two-months of training.

The woman came at her from above. Daianya took the full force of the attack on her blade, before sliding sideways to get clear. It was clear the woman had been expecting her to deflect the blow, because she stumbled slightly at the impact. Daianya took up her defensive stance again and waited.

The woman was scowling in annoyance, and charged into a slashing attack to Daianya’s left side. She blocked it again and swung upwards, forcing the woman to fall back.

There were chuckles from off to the side. The woman began to blush in embarrassment.

Her next attack was a series of blows which only half hit but came from a dozen different angles. Daianya deflect and blocked as best she could, but the last few got through and hit her armour, leaving black marks where a sharpened blade would have cut her.

“Victory Reyla,” Commander Gunhild called out.

Daianya let her sword drop to her side and went to sit on the bench.

To her surprise, King Bor was standing by one of the pillars around the training yard, watching her. They made eye contact and she ducked into a quick bow. He gave her a curt nod and kept watching.

After the next match, Daianya was called up again.

“Hindrild, you go on defence,” Gunhild said.

Hindrild clearly did not like the idea, but took up a defensive stance anyway.

Daianya took a deep breath. She was still going to lose, but hopefully not at the first blow.

She raised her sword and studied her opponent. Hindrild was a good fighter, very fast reflexes, but she favoured her right side a little too much, leading her to lack strength on her left. 

Daianya swung as hard as she could. It was a gamble – if Hindrild stepped back instead of engaging then Daianya would end up flat on her face – but she had read her opponent correctly, Hindrild caught the incoming blade and tried to deflect it.

She was partially successful, but still took a hard jolt to her left arm. Daianya followed it up with a light jab low down, then quickly brought her sword up and slammed it down hard against Hindrild’s blade.

Hindrild dropped her sword.

There was a collective gasp in the training yard as Hindrild ducked back and began circling around, trying to get back to her blade. Daianya stood more or less on top of it and waited.

Hindrild ducked and feinted, but Daianya stood firm. There was only one direction that mattered to Hindrild, and that was the one that ended directly under Daianya’s feet.

Realising Daianya wasn’t falling for her feints, Hindrild ducked forwards and pushed off, trying to slam her body into Daianya’s feet and push her off balance before she could bring her blade down. Daianya jumped the attack and landed on Hindrild’s back with both her knees, feet braced against the ground at Hindrild’s sides and blade at the back on her head.

“Victory Daianya,” Gunhild said.

Hindrild rose and stormed off to the benches, throwing off all attempts by her friends to offer reassurance.

“Well done,” Gunhild said.

Daianya went back to the bench and glanced up at the King. He gave her a nod and turned to head back inside.

****

Anima appeared in the forest, not far from Niler’s hut, and turned to head out towards the fields where the sheep grazed.

“Look, Niler, I got us some eggs! And a few berries, although most of them were harvested by the village yesterday, they always miss a few.”

Anima turned with a frown and followed the voice back towards Niler’s hut. Her suspicions were confirmed as she stepped into the clearing.

“Senan?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

He looked up at her and a beaming smile appeared on his face. “Fairy Princess! You came back!” he turned to Niler, who was sitting in the small patch of sunlight that made it through the break in the trees. “See, I told you she’d come back.”

Anima walked over to him. “Why aren’t you watching the sheep?” she asked.

Senan shrugged. “I got a bit banished,” he said. “Me master caught me leaving Niler here a bit of bread and told me he didn’t need me anymore, and then no one else wanted me because they didn’t want to make me master angry, so I left the village and came here, seein’ as I couldn’t make things worse and Niler could use a bit of help.”

“He’s gathered firewood for us,” Niler said, “enough for a month’s worth, and he’s a good hunter when it comes to the birds.”

Senan gave her a smile. “It’s not too bad, actually. No one to make me rise with the sun, no one to beat me for lyin’ – hey! Where are you goin’?”

“To the village,” Anima said angrily. “Once they see me they’ll know you weren’t lying.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Senan said, looking worried. “A beautiful fairy princess such as yourself will attract rather a lot of attention, the bad kind, I mean. My master’ll – ex master – will want you to grant him wishes and honours, and he’ll get really mad if you don’t. He might take it out on me sister and her family, and that’s not fair to her, given that she sneaks me bread.”

Anima stopped walking. “I won’t let him catch me,” she said.

“But after you go he’ll still be here to get angry at me,” Senan said. “Come and have lunch with us, fairy princess, I’ll cook you up an egg.”

Anima slowly let the tension leave her shoulders. “If he ever hurts you, _ever_ I want you to tell me,” she said. “And I will come and hurt him back, and I will _not_ be nice about it.”

“Hurtin’ others is rarely nice,” Senan said. “But I’ll let you know if he goes too far.”

She returned with him to the clearing, where he placed a bowl of water over the fire and sank it carefully down into the ashes. “It’ll take a little while to boil,” he said, “and then we can cook our eggs.”

Anima took a seat next to Niler. “How have you been?” she asked him.

“Better now that I have a strong, young companion to help me,” Niler said. “I’ll have to teach him how to tell fortunes, for when I’m gone and he grows too old to hunt his food.”

“Are you worried about dying?” Anima asked.

Niler shrugged. “I can’t do much about it, so I suppose it’s not worth worrying about,” he said. “Besides, when I die I’ll see my father and brother again, so it’s not all bad now, is it?”

Anima frowned. “All the people I know will outlive me,” she said.

“Your job to make things welcome for them then,” Niler said as Senan divided the berries up into three portions and began to pull some bread apart.

Anima reached into her pocket and pulled out the tooth.

“Senan, I made you something,” she said.

His head rose at once from his task and he looked at her with interest.

“Tell me, what can a fairy princess make for a mortal boy?” he asked.

Anima grinned and held out the tooth. “A communication device; if I did it correctly then we should be able to talk to one another once I’m back home.”

He reached out and took it, looking vaguely sceptical. “It looks like a tooth,” he said. “A particularly fine one, and not from a cow, I know that.”

“It’s from a tiger, one of the biggest of its kind,” Anima said. 

“What’s a tiger?” Senan asked.

Anima concentrated with her hands held up in the air. After a few seconds an image appeared between her hands of a large creature with stripes along its back and a mouth filled with large, pointed teeth.

“Oh wow,” Senan said. “I do not ever want to meet one of those.”

“There are a few in the royal zoo,” Anima said. “They are supposed to come from Midgard.”

“Where’s that?” Senan asked.

“Here,” Anima said. “This realm is called Midgard.”

“I’ve never seen one,” Senan said.

“Well, they aren’t everywhere,” Anima conceded, “but they do live somewhere on this realm. And when one of the zoo ones died their teeth were sold at the market as jewellery, so I bought one and put a crystal in it, and that means we should be able to talk. You have to say my name to make it work.”

“So it’s made especially for me?” Senan said, grinning and waggling his eyebrows.

Anima blushed in spite of herself. “Maybe,” she said.

****

Nal stood in front of the trays and trays of seedlings and nodded approvingly. She had hired a gardener who specialised in the growth of cacao trees to come and set the project up, and to teach the tenants of the land how to raise and care for the new plants. The seedlings were healthy and the people were enthusiastic about their new crops.

At least, most of them were. Apparently there was a hold-out, a man named Orthnir, who was refusing to clear his land of the meagre, and frankly pitiful, crops of grain he had planted on it.

“We must go and speak to him,” Odin said. “He doesn’t own the land, he never did. He lives there in exchange for growing your drops for you, so you must enforce this as his landlord, otherwise he will continue to take advantage of you. If he wants land of his own he can save up and buy it like everyone else.”

“He gets a percentage of the crop’s selling price, doesn’t he?” Nal asked.

Odin nodded. “Tenant farmers get ten percent each year, which they use to buy food. Their houses, seeds, fertiliser and equipment are all provided by you.”

“I wonder why he is being difficult?” Nal said.

“Probably because you are new, and because you are young, and because these lands were owned by Father, and he never took any interest in them. This Orthnir person has been allowed to do what he likes for centuries,” Odin said.

“Where does he live?” Nal asked one of the other tenants, who tensed up.

People frequently did when they weren’t used to her. Blue was such a contrast to the pinks and browns of the Asgardian population. Nal had learnt to ignore it.

“He lives in the house closest to the hill, over there,” the man said, pointing at the place where the land started to rise.

“Thank you,” Nal said.

“You are always very polite,” Odin commented as they headed back to the flyer.

“They already fear me, why give them a reason to hate me too?” Nal said.

Odin paused and looked at her. “Is that really what most people are like?” he asked.

Nal shrugged. “Of course. No one actually likes a Jotun in their midst. All the stories the children are told make us out to be monsters.”

“They’re just stories,” Odin said weakly, but he wasn’t so stupid as to really believe what he was saying. “I will find a way to help change their minds,” he said. “You should not be feared in your own home.”

Nal smiled at him. “Good luck,” was all she said. 

****

They reached Orthnir’s house after ten minutes of flying. It was a humble-looking cottage, but it had been well maintained, and the garden was filled with vegetables.

He came out of his house as they stepped off the flyer.

“What is _that_ doing here?” he asked bluntly, looking at Nal.

Beside her, Odin tensed up.

“That’s my daughter and your new landlord,” he said.

Nal took a breath and stepped in front of him. The desire to defend her was admirable, but ultimately not as productive as her defending herself, at least, he hoped.

“My name is Nal Odinsdottir, Princess of Asgard, Landlord of these lands, and I have come to ask you why you haven’t turned over your fields in readiness for planting my crops?” she asked.

He turned away from her and walked back towards his house.

“Evict him,” Nal said. “Right now.”

He turned back with wide eyes as the palace guards began to walk toward him.

“What?” he yelled. “You can’t do that! I’ve been here for five hundred years!”

“And now you can go somewhere else,” Nal said, “unless you, firstly, apologise to me for the disrespect, and secondly, agree to turn over your fields. Last year’s crop has already been harvested, there is no waste if you do it now. Why wouldn’t you?”

He spat at her.

“Evict him,” Nal said.

He screamed and yelled and caused a great deal of fuss, but the guards turned everything out of his house and moved it to the front lawn as Nal and Odin watched.

“I will be sending people here tomorrow to tear down the house. I will have another, more modern one built for whoever my new tenants turn out to be,” Nal said.

They boarded the flyer and headed toward home.

Nal slumped in her seat. “Did I do that the right way?” she asked her father.

“You were lenient, I was going to have him arrested after he spat,” Odin said. 

“I still want to know why he wouldn’t listen,” Nal said. “I asked him to explain, and I would have listened, maybe he has a good reason for not turning over his soil.”

“Then he should have told you it instead of standing on his pride,” Odin said. “Um… they don’t spit at you in the city, do they?”

“No,” Nal said. “They fear me in the city, or they respect my title, I’ve never had anyone spit.”

Odin sank back into his chair. “Once the money comes in from the new crops the others will respect you as their landlord,” he said, “although I wish I could think of a way to stop them from jumping slightly every time you speak.”

“Familiarity will take care of that,” Nal said. “I will visit them often and try to get to know them, that way they won’t be scared.”

Odin looked across at her. “You are very mature about this,” he said. “Anima would have hit them with a piece of rotten fruit.”

“Anima can conjure rotten fruit out of the air,” Nal countered. “There’s no telling how I would have responded if I could do that.”


	20. One Year Later

**One year later. Fourteen years until the Convergence**

Hela sat in her chair on the spaceship and glared at the sight before her: majestic oceans, gorgeous mountains, and a gleaming palace in the centre, shining golden in the sunlight.

“Ugh,” she said.

It had been over a year since she had left Asgard, and she and her crew had spent that time scouring every bloody asteroid in the asteroid field looking for signs that Thanos was hidden somewhere amongst them. There had been faint traces of engine disturbances in the beginning, but they had been too weak to track, and so Hela had ordered a full search.

The asteroid field had been as large as three planets and there had been multiple pockets of radiation and cosmic interference making their search all the more difficult.

With every passing day her crew had grown more discouraged. Finally they had begun to mutter about giving up and returning home. Hela had killed the pilot and demanded that the navigator learn how to fly through the portal generator, a process that took several weeks. Once the muttering began again, Hela killed the navigator and put one of the warriors in charge of learning the portal system. By the time he mastered the technology more than half the asteroid field had been searched and no one was keen to suggest leaving the other half.

Only Ragnar seemed as eager as she had been. Night after night he had whispered in her ear all the terrible things he wanted to do to Thanos when they caught him. It made her feel wonderfully hot and dark to imagine him torturing the Titan, forcing cries of pain from his purple mouth. 

Even so, as time went on she’d slowly grown tired of his boasting. The only reason she had spared him was because she wanted to see whether he actually had the courage to fight Thanos when they caught up with him. Personally she thought he would back off – Thanos was terrifying to behold – but then if Ragnar disappointed her she could always kill him.

Finally the asteroid field had been completely searched and nothing had been found. The consensus was that Thanos must have fled before they arrived and that they had long since lost his trail.

Hela had been furious, and demanded that they travel back to Asgard via a number of well-known ports for less desirable travellers, in case any news of Thanos turned up, but it appeared that the Titan had gone to ground. 

The trip home took them the better part of three months, and now that they were here Hela found she wasn’t all that keen to return.

Asgard was at peace. It was beautiful and prosperous, and filled with happy and healthy people.

Ugh.

“Take us in,” Hela commanded reluctantly.

She wanted to go back out on the hunt, but her men could only think of their – ugh – loved ones and the comfort of their beds.

The ship landed with a hard jolt – the warrior she had turned into a pilot had never quite gotten the hang of landings – and the hatch opened up with a hiss.

The air was fresh and sweet; Hela gritted her teeth and tried to ignore it.

“Your Grace,” Ragnar said.

“What?”

“Now that we are home, I assume our… dalliance, is to be forgotten?”

Hela rolled her eyes. “Of course it is, I have better things to do now,” she said.

He nodded in understanding and left her alone.

Hela liked Ragnar slightly more than she liked most people which, given that she hated most people, still meant that she didn’t want to be in any kind of relationship with him. One of the reasons that she liked him was because he seemed to understand that.

She stalked through the ship to the hatch and joined her men on the ground.

King Bor had come from the palace to greet her. She forced a smile of greeting onto her face. 

“Your Majesty,” she said. “I am sorry to inform you that the Titan fugitive remains at large.”

“You couldn’t find him?” Bor asked.

“We tracked his trail but it went cold. We searched his last known location thoroughly and then a number of common space ports on our way back here,” Hela said, gauging Bor’s reaction carefully.

He huffed through his nose in disappointment but didn’t go into a rage.

“In the end, it’s one Titan,” he said. “He has no army, no powerful ships. One day he will resurface and then we will kill him, until then come inside and replenish yourself.”

Hela bowed, hiding her expression. If only she could have men that were more like her. Then they would all stay out there until Thanos was stardust.

“Has anything changed since I have been gone?” Hela asked as they walked back towards the palace.

“Daianya is progressing nicely with her Valkyrie training,” Bor said. “And your father hurt his eye again, I swear he’s going to lose it one day.”

Hela grunted. She didn’t really care.

“Anything else?” she asked.

Bor shook his head. “No, everything is exactly as it was when you left.”

****

Anima lay on her bed with her arms behind her head.

“No, it’s made of gold too, the whole palace is made of gold,” she said.

_**“How can a whole palace be made of gold? There isn’t enough gold in the world.”** _

She giggled as the voice of Senan came from her pendant. They had been talking almost every day for a year and they still had barely scratched the surface of the differences in their two worlds.

“Well, a lot of the gold came from spoils of war,” Anima said. “We’re good at winning wars.”

 _ **"I’ve never been in a war, I hope I never am,”**_ Senan said.

“You don’t want glory?” Anima asked.

 _ **"I don’t see any glory in hackin’ off some other guy’s arm before he can do it to me,”**_ Senan said.

“How’s Niler?” Anima asked. “Is he over that cough?”

 _ **"He’s well over it, and more spritely than he was before. I don’t know what you put in that potion but it’s worked twice over; he’s a new man,”**_ Senan said. _**”Are you still comin’ for dinner tomorrow night?”**_

“Yes, I’ll be there, I’ll bring something sweet to have afterwards,” Anima said.

 _ **”Is it apples? I’m not too fond of apples,”**_ Senan said, making Anima laugh.

“It’s chocolate,” she said.

_**”Ah, well, chocolate is a fine thing indeed, I’ve not tasted anythin’ like it other than from you and your fairy realm. I look forward to it, and to seein’ you of course.”** _

“See you then,” Anima said.

The spell ended and she drew in a deep breath. The past year had been the happiest she’d ever had.

 _Hela’s back,_ Nal thought into her head.

“Oh shit,” Anima said.

****

Nal was sitting by the reflecting pool in Bestla’s rooms when the servant came to tell the queen that her eldest granddaughter had returned. 

“I’m sure she’ll come and visit me soon,” Bestla said.

Nal doubted it; Hela would rather gnaw off her own arm than visit her grandmother. Bestla knew it too, but diplomatically pretended that Hela was just very busy.

“I received a letter from your Uncle Vili,” Bestla said. “He’s experiencing strong rainfall in the mountains and expects the rivers to run high all the way down through the valley. He said you and Odin would find that information important.”

Nal nodded. “Thank you, I’ll have to check the flood guards for my lands and make sure they are all maintained as they should be. Father will have to issue a warning to all landowners to do the same.”

“Will you move to your lands one day?” Bestla asked.

Nal looked confused. “It’s not normal for a noble to, no, not when you have a palace to live in,” she said. 

“A Jotun woman needs a place of her own to bear her children,” Bestla said. “I thought maybe you had considered it.”

“I haven’t considered anything yet,” Nal said. “It’s only been a year, and I may have gotten used to the feeling of gathering but I still don’t like it _or_ understand how you can want to eat someone’s flesh.”

“Not every man deserves a reward for his code,” Bestla said, “but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take it anyway.”

Nal shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand it,” she said.

****

Odin smiled as Hela walked into his office. “Welcome back,” he said. “You are just in time for an official visit from King Eitri. He and his retinue are due to arrive in three days.”

Hela just pulled a face and went to look out of the window.

“I couldn’t find Thanos,” she said. “As soon as another ship can be made ready I intend to depart to try and track him again.”

Odin came to stand beside her. “I know he was one of their best fighters, but without an army, what harm do you think he can do? Truly? Should we be fearing him?” he asked her.

Hela turned and looked at him. 

“How did you hurt your eye this time?” she asked.

“Loki caught me at training. It was a practice sword so I’ll be able to take the eyepatch off in another few weeks,” Odin said. 

Hela sighed. “Loki is a menace,” she said, but it was with a smile. “I enjoyed seeing him on the battlefield.”

“He’s an asset, and he’s very sorry. Father is furious at him though,” Odin said.

“Is he lying low?”

“What do you think?”

“I’ll see him at dinner then?”

“Of course,” Odin said. “Now about Eitri – “

“Does that really involve me?” Hela asked.

“I think it should. You are my heir, the war is more than ten years over and it’s time that you learnt how to be a ruler in peacetime,” Odin said, picking up a jug and pouring her a glass of wine.

“What makes you assume my reign will be peaceful?” Hela asked.

Odin paused and gave her a long, measured, stare. “I certainly hope it will be,” he said in a quiet voice that nevertheless rang of authority and discipline. 

Hela broke their gaze first and turned to look back out of the window. “We might get attacked at any time, is all I meant,” she said. “King Bor’s reign has been filled with war.”

“On the contrary, before the Titan war we had a minor conflict with the Kree and a small skirmish with the Valaxians. Before _that_ we had nothing but peace. The last true war before the Titan’s was the war with Jotunheim, and Father was not yet king when that happened,” Odin said. “Most of his reign has been peaceful, as it should be.”

Hela shrugged, but conceded the point.

Odin handed her a glass and took a sip of his own wine. “Father has requested that I handle the meeting with Eitri, I would like you there as my heir,” he said.

“As you wish,” Hela said. “But afterwards I want to track Thanos again. I do believe him to be a much larger threat than the king seems to realise. I fought him on the battlefield, Father, you and King Bor did not.”

Odin nodded his consent. “If you believe he needs to be dealt with rather than letting him come to us then by all means take to the stars to track him down. Perhaps we can even commission a ship from Eitri for you, something better suited to long journeys. I can’t imagine that it was particularly comfortable in the tiny ship you took.”

“Tensions did get high,” Hela said. “But that’s because the men were weak. They lost sight of the goal.”

“Perhaps we can send out a few scouting vessels to all the known spaceports to help give you better direction,” Odin suggested. “That way the men won’t be discouraged by a long journey and no success.”

Hela nodded curtly. “That is a good idea. I will assign men to the task immediately.”

She put her glass down and walked out without another word or even a nod of acknowledgement. Odin stared after her with a thoughtful, and slightly troubled, expression. It appeared that her year-long travels had not made Hela more amenable or reasonable, if anything it seemed to have made her worse.

“Father was right,” Odin said quietly to himself. “I have to have a son.”

****

Daianya stood at the far end of the training grounds and watched the opposition carefully. Melee fighting was always rough and chaotic, but if she could identify a good early target then she could help clear the field quickly, leaving her team with an advantage.

Commander Gunhild blew her whistle and the two groups began to run at one another. A lot of the girls let out screams or shouts, but Daianya was silent. She ran at full tilt and within seconds had outpaced most of her team. The only ones who kept up with her were the other Aesir.

Full Asgardian blood meant no watering down of strength, endurance or speed. There weren’t many of them in either team but there were enough to show the difference as plain as day. One of them came for her as the two groups came together. Daianya ducked under her swinging arm and kept running toward the approaching lines of the Asgardian Valkyrie. Several of them hesitated in their running when they realised that she was coming for them, and were promptly crashed into from behind by their own allies.

Daianya hit the pile up at full speed and shoved half a dozen girls backwards, making them lose their feet. She then turned and knocked the breath out of one girl and punched another in the face-shield.

And then the rest of the battle caught up to her and she was surrounded. She slashed and swung and punched and kicked until she suddenly found herself with no more opponents.

“Victory red team,” Gunhild said.

The fallen slowly climbed to their feet.

“It’s not fair, fighting Aesir,” one of the girls closest to Daianaya said to her friend while shooting Daianya a dirty look, “they’re too strong.” 

“Do you believe you and your opponent will always be perfectly matched in battle?” Gunhild said sharply, overhearing her. “You fight together because you need to learn how to use your own strengths to defeat theirs. Brute strength is an advantage but it is nothing compared to speed and skill. I’ve taken down Kronans twice the size of Medla and three times the size of Daianya. They were far stronger than me but I won because I used my own strengths to find their weaknesses. If you can’t learn that then you have no place in the Valkyrie.”

The girl looked down, blushing furiously.

“Take the injured to the healer’s rooms,” Gunhild said, “and then those who are still standing can come back here for feedback.”

Daianya lifted one of her teammates, named Kyra, and began carrying her across the yard.

“Thanks,” Kyra groaned.

“What happened?” Daianya asked her.

“The last thing I saw was a fist from Londra,” Kyra said. 

Daianya winced. Londra was also Aesir, and huge. She was over six feet tall and had to tilt her shoulders slightly to the side to walk through a regular doorway.

“I think the strength I need to work on is how to duck,” Kyra said.

Daianya carried her up the stairs and deposited her gently onto one of the healer’s beds.

“No doubt Commander Gunhild will tell you that herself,” she said.

She headed back down the stairs and out into the yard, to find Gunhild giving feedback to a few of the remaining uninjured.

“Sloppy follow through, never forget that you are in a melee, that means there are enemies from every side. If your opponent falls then you immediately take a defensive stance because there’s a good chance someone else is already coming up behind you.”

The girl she was talking to nodded in understanding as Gunhild looked up and spotted Daianya.

“Daianya, you did well, good strategy, good use of your strength, but you are relying on it too much. Just like the other girls will one day fight against opponents stronger than them, so will you. I want to see more footwork and dodging. Try to get through the weak points in their armour, don’t just knock them down.”

“Yes Commander,” Daianya said.

Gunhild considered her carefully. “It’s hard to believe that you have only been in training for just over a year. There aren’t a lot of trainees who can match you,” she said, “which is a problem because you won’t get better otherwise.”

Daianya became uncomfortably aware of the stares being directed at the back of her head. It was true though. She had picked up the basic skills of battle very quickly, and her workouts had increased her strength rapidly. She was still joining every training class, but with the youngest level she now spent her time helping the teachers, and even in the intermediate level she was considered the ‘final challenger’ or sorts when fighting one on one.

The upper level was where the challenge lay, although lately it didn’t seem to feel that way.

“I will have to consider what to do with you,” Gunhild continued. “For now, you can all go and shower and change. It is lunchtime and I know you are all starving.”

The girls all headed to the barracks. Daianya didn’t have anyone to walk with. Some of the girls were friendlier than others, but they had been training together for centuries before Daianya showed up and so each had their own friendship groups. Daianya didn’t mind too much, as long as she could trust them on the battlefield she didn’t see the need to try and force friendships.

“You did good,” Medla said to her.

“Thanks,” Daianya said, “you too.”

Off on her right though, three girls were still staring. One of them had been the one who had complained about having to fight her.

Daianya turned and looked her in the eyes. She looked away quickly and they hurried on ahead of her.

Daianya watched them as they went. She had no doubt that there would be trouble soon, it had been brewing for some time. Hopefully she would be able to handle it when it came.

 _You want me to turn them into goats? I’ve been working on a spell,_ Anima offered in her head.

 _Save it for emergencies,_ Daianya thought back.


	21. The Arrival of the Dwarves

Hela’s return to Asgard cast an awkward shadow over things. She was always harsh and ill-tempered, and doubly so now due to her failure to find and kill Thanos, and the servants scurried if they had to go past her rooms for any reason.

The feeling persisted at the feast that night to welcome her home. The laughter was less natural, and the high table, which had been more relaxed and familial in the past year, was once again stilted and stiff.

Bor didn’t _seem_ to notice, at least outwardly, but when he bent his head to talk to Odin he muttered in a low voice: “When’s she leaving again?”

“She’s sending out scouts to try and find the Titan,” Odin replied. “If she gets a report back on his whereabouts she will go after him.”

“Hope they find him soon,” Bor muttered and went back to his wine.

Bestla was trying to engage Hela in conversation about her travels, but Hela was utterly indifferent and kept rolling her eyes or looking away. No one else at the table was talking much.

The only person who seemed unaffected by Hela’s return was Loki, who was keeping a small audience of nobles enraptured with some of his more impressive tales of adventure. He had raised a glass to Hela to acknowledge her return, but from that point on appeared to have forgotten her.

 _Uncle Loki never seems to worry about anything,_ Anima thought.

 _I’m convinced it’s a front,_ Nal replied.

 _I’m not sure that it is,_ Daianya thought. _From what I’ve heard from some of the Valkyrie he charges into battle with the same joy that he tells his tales at the feast table, and also according to them he hardly ever exaggerates his tales._

 _What about the one with the seven Titans who surrounded him and tried to rip all his limbs off?_ Anima asked.

 _Witnessed by two Valkyrie, although they both say they thought the Titans had finally succeeded in killing him until he popped up from the centre of the pile with a blast of magic,_ Daianya thought.

 _Do you think Hela will leave again soon?_ Anima thought. _I know she’s our sister and we’re supposed to want to spend time with family, but honestly, she has nothing in common with me._

 _Hela has nothing in common with the whole population of Asgard,_ Nal thought, _Because the rest of us are happy to be alive, and she’s very much_ **unhappy** _for us to be alive._

 _Hela is cancer,_ Daianya thought. 

_What?_ thought the other two almost in unison.

Daianya blinked and shook her head. _I don’t know where that came from,_ she thought.

 _Sounds true though,_ Anima thought, _feels right._

 _We should stop being so mean, she can’t help what she is,_ Nal thought.

 _And what she **is** is cancer,_ Anima answered back.

 _Besides, I’m the mean one around here. Stop stealing my chances to be shocking,_ Nal thought, fighting to keep from smiling.

“Why are you so happy?” Hela asked her, noticing her expression.

“Just happy to have you back,” Nal said.

Hela shot her a filthy look; they both knew Nal was lying.

****

Eitri sat in the captain’s chair on the space ship _Regin_ , named for its craftsman’s father. 

Beside him sat Brokkr and Sindri, both of whom had insisted on making the journey with him. Eitri hadn’t been all that enthusiastic about the idea, but as they were owed as much as he was, they had the right to make their case in person.

“I’ll bet you ten gold coins that Bor doesn’t even speak to us,” Sindri said. “He’ll send Odin to deal with us from the start.”

“At all? A foolish bet, so I’ll take it,” Brokkr said. “Bor will greet us as per protocol, _then_ he will leave Odin to deal with us.”

Sindri grumbled under his breath but Brokkr just held his hands up in a shrug. “You made the terms, I just agreed to them,” he said.

“Look at this,” Eitri said, to distract them from their constant negativity, “it’s a scroll of casting involving a new type of enchantment for protection.”

They looked at the writings. “Interesting,” Sindri said.

“Innovative,” Brokkr added. 

“Who came up with it?” Sindri asked.

“According to the scholar I bought this from, Anima Odinsdottir,” Eitri said.

Both of them reared their heads back as though the scroll was cursed.

“Brother I do not understand you,” Sindri said. “They owe us their weight in gold and more, and you sit admiring their work!”

Eitri took a deep breath to keep from losing his temper. Sindri was always quick to anger, and often directed his rage in an unjust direction. Brokkr was only partially better.

“I am fairly certain, although do please correct me if I am wrong, that Princess Anima was not yet born when Gungnir and Mjolnir were forged. In fact I’m reasonably certain that her mother was also not yet born, so for what reason do you hold a grudge against her?” Eitri asked.

“She’s Bor’s granddaughter; that’s reason enough,” Brokkr said. Sindri nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“If the sorcerer I bouth this from is telling the truth, then she’s one of the most talented spell casters I have ever seen, and considering my age that’s quite an impressive statement,” Eitri said. “Enchantments like this one will make the strength of our weapons greater than anything we have made before.”

“Not possible,” Brokkr said. “We gave our blood to create Gungnir and Mjolnir. They are our greatest work.”

Eitri looked down at the scroll again. “Your greatest, perhaps, but I feel mine is still ahead of me, _if_ what I have heard about Princess Anima is correct.”

****

Three days later the entire royal family was present at the landing pad awaiting the arrival of Eitri, King of the Dwarves, in his space ship.

“He could have used the Bifrost and been here a year ago,” Bor said gruffly.

“It is his choice how to travel,” Odin said calmly.

“When can you take the eyepatch off?” Bor asked.

“In a few weeks.”

“I’ll hang that son of a bitch,” Bor muttered.

“It was a training accident, I should have held my guard up higher,” Odin said. “I enjoy training with Loki because of how chaotic he is. I have learnt all the rules of combat; he helps me to find new ones.”

“I won’t hang him until he’s dead,” Bor said, “just until he turns purple, then I’ll let him go.”

Odin turned to look upwards as the ship they had been waiting for came into view.

“Wow,” Anima said.

“It’s a beauty,” Odin added.

“Very fine,” Daianya commented.

“Showy,” Bor said.

“I wonder if it’s also advanced in its ability to travel through space?” Hela said. “If so, I want one”

They waited and watched as the ship came smoothly gliding through the atmosphere and gently touched down on the landing pad with barely a whisper of sound.

“I want one,” Hela repeated.

The hatch opened and a walkway slid out seamlessly from the hatchway to the ground. King Eitri’s guard appeared first, stepping out and making his way down the walkway to stand stiffly at the bottom.

“He looks like a mechanic,” Bor said.

Then Eitri himself appeared. He made his way down the walkway, followed by his brothers, and frequent collaborators, Brokkr and Sindri.

A few more guards followed them, leading to eight Dwarves total in the party as they approached King Bor and his family.

“Welcome to Asgard,” Bor said, giving Eitri a small bow.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Eitri replied, mimicking the smallness of the bow. “I hope you were not waiting long?”

“No, you were right on time, and what a magnificent ship you have brought. Is she a new design?” Bor asked.

Eitri grinned. “Oh yes, after the war ended we returned to our trades, this is our finest creation since then, and a marked improvement on anything that has come before.”

Behind him, Brokkr and Sindri were looking annoyed. Brokkr kept twitching as though he wanted to say something but was holding himself back.

“May I present my granddaughters, Hela you know, Daianya, Goddess of Souls, Nal, Goddess of Winter, and little Anima, Goddess of Magic,” Bor said.

Eitri brightened noticeably at Anima’s name. “Ah yes, the magical one; we use hundreds of very complex spells in our castings, particularly weapons like Gungnir and Mjolnir.”

Brokkr almost said something from behind him, but shut his mouth when Sindri knocked into him. Bor didn’t notice; he was too busy looking between Anima and Eitri.

“I’m sure Anima would be happy to speak to you about her magic this evening at the feast,” he said. “For now, I welcome you to Asgard, the servants will take your things to your rooms, and if there is anything you require they will be happy to provide it for you.”

This time Brokkr just took a quick breath. He looked away from Bor only to find Nal watching him, which was only slightly less unnerving than realising that Hela was too.

“Thank you, your Grace, we look forward to seeing you all at the feast,” Eitri said.

The two groups departed with a number of bows.

 _Do you think he’s going to try and wed you to Eitri?_ Nal asked as they walked back inside.

Anima’s eyes widened. _Eitri? Why would he do that?_ she thought.

 _Because he’s the king and he’s always looking for an advantage,_ Nal thought. _Although I never heard anything about Malekith so I can only assume that any plans he tried to make with the Dark Elves never took fruit. But who knows, maybe you’ll marry the king of the Dwarves and spend your days casting spells on his workings._

 _I doubt it,_ Anima thought. _One advantage to being mortal is that no one wants anything that won’t last more than a century. King Bor can arrange what he likes but I bet King Eitri would turn it down. Of all the races on the nine realms, Dwarves are the ones who most like things that last._

****

Whether Bor had thoughts in that direction or not, he did rearrange the seating order of his granddaughters that night at the feast so that Anima was sitting on Eitri’s left. As a visiting king, Eitri sat on the King’s left in a place of honour, with his brothers seated on either side of Odin to the right of Bestla. Nal and Daianya were each one seat over from their usual places, but otherwise still in roughly the location, on the far left of the table, with Hela moved all the way to the end of the table on Sindri’s right.

Anima looked like a doll next to Eitri, who was ten feet tall. Nevertheless he engaged her in conversation almost immediately.

“I’ve heard that you can turn your magic to almost any spell?” he asked.

Anima nodded. “I’ve yet to find one that defeats me,” she said. “Although it takes me longer to cast spells than most sorcerers.”

“Why is that?”

“I try to use as little magic as possible,” Anima said. “But that means I have to cast things carefully and with a lot more detail than other people do.”

“Detail? What do you mean by detail?” Eitri asked.

Anima shrugged. “Magic is just numbers,” she said. “If you find the right numbers, you can make magic do whatever you want. If you find the _exact_ combination of numbers, then you can get the magic to do what you want using half the power, sometimes even less, but that takes more numbers to run, which in turn means that it takes longer to achieve.”

“Fascinating,” Eitri said. “We use a similar theory to engrave the enchantments on our workings. You _can_ use a simple enchantment, but it will use a lot of power, and as our weapons usually pull magic from the atmosphere rather than hold a charge themselves, it’s important to achieve what you need without draining all the magic in the immediate area, so the less power it requires to achieve the effect the better.”

Anima’s eyes lit up. “I wondered how Gungnir could still be firing after all this time without a recharge! Are you telling me it never holds any power of its own at all?”

Eitri grinned. “One of my finest workings,” he said. 

“It’s magnificent,” Anima said. “I tried to replicate its effect once out in the old training yard.”

“Did you succeed?”

“That _is_ why they call it the _old_ training yard,” Anima said, making Eitri chuckle.

****

On the other side of the table, Brokkr and Sindri were in engaged in an intense conversation with Odin.

“There was an agreement,” Brokkr said. “And your father has not upheld his side to it.”

“It’s been almost fifty years now,” Sindri added. “And he still sends commissions for weapons for his army as though he is not in debt to us.”

Odin looked back and forth from one to the other as they spoke.

“Please,” he said, “I will speak to my father about this matter after the feast. You are correct in that it should not have gone on as long as it has. Whatever dispute my father has with Loki regarding who owes you gold should not ever have affected you.”

“Loki said he spoke on behalf of the king of Asgard,” Sindri said. “Was he lying?”

Odin kept his tone calm as he spoke. “He was not lying; my Father sent him to commissions two great weapons for use against the Titans in the war. Like I said, I will speak to him.”

“We should speak to him now,” Brokkr said. “Our brother ought to, but he has been distracted by your daughter. Was she put there to fill his head with – “

“With what?” Hela cut in sharply, leaning forward and staring him down with eyes that suddenly sparkled with interest. “Do you think to accuse my sister of… something?”

Brokkr backed down under her gaze, but Sindri had no such self-control.

“Of being a royal flirt?” he snapped. “Or just outright being a whore? How would she even manage him at her size? Or is that why she has magic?”

Unfortunately for him, he had spoken loudly enough to attract the attention of the rest of the table. Odin’s fist clenched and Bor’s face became ugly as Eitri turned a horrible shade of red and opened his mouth to rebuke is brother.

Hela reacted first.

Sindri gave a sudden gasp and clutched his stomach. He fell backwards out of his chair and to the floor with a large blade shoved straight through his body.


	22. The Trouble with Honour

Odin turned and yelled: “Get a healer! Get a healer now!”

Brokkr cried out in alarm and tried to staunch the blood flow as Sindri coughed and gasped for air. Blood splattered out of his mouth and down his front as Hela stood over him, smiling.

Odin saw her and hissed: “Get out of here.”

Her face changed to one of annoyance and she left the room as Odin and Brokkr tried together to keep Sindri alive. Daianya appeared on his other side and began using torn fabric to help with the wound. Odin watched her face carefully, which was why when he saw her eyes suddenly track upwards to a point just above Sindri’s body, he was not surprised when a few moments later Sindri gave his last breath and his body went still. Her early healer’s training and her ability to see souls meant that she knew he was beyond saving within seconds of trying. She did not stop until his last stutter though, just in case.

The healer arrived at a run a few seconds later but he was already dead.

“She killed him!” Brokkr cried. “She killed my brother! I demand vengeance! I demand retribution!”

“You demand nothing,” Eitri said, cutting through his brother’s cries. “I heard what Sindri said, we all did. He insulted Princess Anima’s honour, and her sister defended it.”

“Defence of honour takes place in the arena!” Brokkr snapped; tears were pouring down his face.

“Do you really think he stood a chance against Hela?” Eitri asked. “The location was incorrect but the conclusion was forgone, now go up to our rooms.”

Brokkr opened his mouth to argue, but took in the number of Asgardians guards watching from their posts. With a scowl at his brother he turned and walked away, head bowed and eyes filled with tears.

“I apologise on behalf of my daughter,” Odin said as, under Eitri’s direction, the Dwarven guards lifted Sindri’s body to take it back to the ship.

Bor shot a look of annoyance at his son, but Odin ignored it.

“No, I heard what he said and it was a grave insult. I… I am sorry on behalf of my brother,” Eitri said.

“I will arrange to have the gold you are owed taken from my own savings and brought to your ship,” Odin said.

Bor opened his mouth to protest, but managed to turn his outraged expression into one that was more diplomatic. “I hope that we can still consider one another allies and trading partners,” he said.

Eitri paused, staring away at nothing for a few seconds, before his head came back up and he bowed his head politely. “That is my hope as well,” he said stiffly. “For now, I would like to follow my remaining brother; I fear his emotions require a firm hand, lest I lose him to honour as well.”

He turned and gave Anima a nod, before leaving the room.

Bor turned to Odin. “Why would you give them the gold?!” he asked.

“Because Hela just _killed_ a prince of their realm!” Odin shot back.

“He deserved it for that insult,” Bor said.

“If he deserved it then it should have happened in the area and it should have been me defending her honour,” Odin said, “this was murder.”

Unseen by the two men, Anima, Nal and Daianya began to slowly inch backwards towards one of the doors.

“You heard Eitri! It would have ended the same way even in the area!” Bor practically shouted.

“No it wouldn’t have! Because I would have fought him to submission, not killed him outright! Do you really think that Eitri is going to forget what happened here? He’s a reasonable man but Hela just killed his brother! The offer of the gold is the very least we can do to try and defuse this situation!” Odin shouted back. “They were here for less than a half a day! Do you think they will plan on staying a second longer than they have to?”

“Dwarves worship gold, everyone knows that, Eitri will stay and negotiate a new commission,” Bor said, but he sounded uncertain.

Odin shook his head. “Even the most gold-loving Dwarf has love for his family,” he said. “I doubt Eitri will stay the night.”

****

Eitri walked back to his assigned rooms with barely concealed anger.

He slammed the door open and slammed it shut again, staring down Brokkr as he sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders slumped.

Eitri felt the anger leave him. He seemed to deflate as his shoulders fell and tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“How?” he managed, falling to the floor. “How could he have been so stupid?”

Brokkr looked up, rage in his eyes. “That bitch is a homicidal maniac and you blame our brother?” he hissed.

“Of course she’s a homicidal maniac, _everyone knows that_ , that’s why you don’t do anything to antagonise her,” Eitri said. “I told you two to let me handle it.”

“And that’s what you were doing? Handling it? You were chatting away to the mortal like you were under a charm spell, it was embarrassing to witness,” Brokkr spat.

Eitri sighed heavily between his teeth. “I was engaging her in conversation to determine whether what I had heard about her skills was true,” he said. “Because under normal circumstances Bor would rather lose an arm than lose the gold he owes us, but I doubt he’d think twice if I requested the debt be paid by the labours of his granddaughter. She could have enchanted such weapons that would make Bor beg to have them, and I would have sold them away to somebody – anybody – else, just to watch him suffer knowing he would never wield them.”

Brokkr was staring at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked.

“I tried, you refused to hear anything I had to say after finding out who authored the spell I showed you,” Eitri said. “I was hoping that you two could make it through dinner without causing a scene, after which time we could have talked and planned and… and… _Sindri_ ,” Eitri’s face crumbled and he began to sob. “Our brother, our stupid, hot-tempered, impatient brother; I should have insisted you both stay behind. I should have protected him better.”

Brokkr rose from the bed and joined his brother on the floor. He wrapped his arms around Eitri and held on tightly. “It was so fast,” he spluttered. “I never saw her move, she just… and then he… he fell. He can’t be gone, he can’t be, he can’t be.”

“I will not forget this,” Eitri said, between gasps for breath and ragged sobs. “I will have my revenge against Bor and his granddaughter.”

“I will have my revenge against them all,” Brokkr said.

Eitri did not try to rebuke him, not this time.

****

Daianya reached the top of the tower only a minute behind her sisters. Her constant running up and down the stairs for the past year had made her almost as fast as the elevator.

In silence they filed into Nal’s room and sat down at her table.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” Nal said.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Anima said. “But I’ll tell you this for nothing, Hela doesn’t give a crap about my honour.”

“No, she doesn’t, so why would she kill him?” Daianya said.

“Because she could,” Nal said. “I’m convinced of it, Hela exists only to kill, and without a war she is hunting for victims. Hunting that Titan was sport for her, but she never made the kill. She’s been back only three days and I swear I saw her stalking one of the servants through the corridors. That Dwarf, Sindri? He said something which required a response in defence of Anima’s honour, but that wasn’t the reason; it was the excuse.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Daianya asked.

Nal tapped her fingers on the table as Anima shrugged.

“I think that King Bor is not going to get the new weapons deal that he wants. I know King Eitri said that trade could still go ahead, but nothing will be decided right now, and once he is back at Nidavellir he has no reason to accept any offer of trade. If King Bor wants to replenish and resupply the army’s weaponry, he’s going to have to do it using Asgardian smiths,” Nal said, “and that means that he will need a direct supply of Jotunheim Steel. So don’t be surprised if our King announces a trip to Jotunheim in the near future.”

“How do you think through things like that?” Anima asked.

“Father does it all the time,” Nal said. “I listen closely when he talks; I have for years.”

“Poor Eitri,” Anima said. “He seemed like such a nice man, and our insane sister has murdered his brother.”

“His brother called you a whore,” Daianya said.

Anima shrugged. “It’s only a word,” she said. “Words only hold the power you give them, not like numbers, I know numbers that would turn him into a newt, compared to that what’s a word truly mean other than that the person using it has a vulgar mind?”

“I saw his soul leave his body,” Daianya said. “It was fighting to stay the whole time, and it looked so _angry_.”

“I hope he has found peace,” Nal said, “because I don’t want him hanging about haunting the place.”

“He’s gone,” Daianya said with certainty, “all the way to the Hall of the Dwarves.” 

“Poor Eitri,” Anima said again. 

“I wonder what Father will do about Hela?” Nal asked.

****

Odin knocked on the door to Hela’s rooms with a stern hand.

“Come in,” she called out.

He entered the room and paused. Loki was already there.

“Brother,” he greeted, giving Odin a nod. “Hela and I were just talking about restraint.”

“Are you sure you know the meaning of the word?” Odin asked.

He wasn’t even going to ask how Loki knew what happened. Half of Asgard probably knew by now and Loki would have been keeping an extra eye on the Dwarves anyway due to their history.

Loki stretched casually in his chair. “I might have read about it,” he said, “enough to know that certain lines should not be crossed at the dinner table.”

Hela rolled her eyes. “He insulted Anima,” she said. “I was within my rights.”

“No, you weren’t,” Odin said. “ _I_ was within my rights as her father, you should have done nothing.”

“How old fashioned,” Hela said.

“If you prefer the modern age, perhaps Anima should have defended herself?” Loki suggested.

Odin and Hela shot him almost identical looks of puzzlement. The only real difference was that Hela’s look also held her usual amount of contempt.

“Anima can’t fight,” Hela said.

“She can turn people into animals,” Loki said. “When are you all going to realise that she is more powerful than all of you?”

“She’s not a _god_ ,” Hela said.

“You are side-tracking the issue,” Odin said to Loki before turning back to Hela. “Hela, not every problem can be solved with death. Not every insult has to be met with it either.”

“Asgardian law states – “

“Asgardian law is not relevant right now, you caused a major diplomatic incident which we may not recover from for a long time, if ever,” Odin said. “You _killed_ someone.”

“In fairness, who in this room hasn’t?” Loki pointed out.

Odin glared at him but continued talking to Hela. “Death on the battlefield is vastly different to murder, and that’s what you did, Hela, you outmatched him in every way, he never stood a chance, you should have taken that into account and shown him mercy.”

“If he never stood a chance, then he never should have made such insults,” Hela said. “He practically wanted to die.”

Odin growled in frustration. “I am punishing you for your actions,” he said.

“You can’t,” Hela said. “I’ve been an adult for five hundred years, only the King can punish me.”

“He has agreed to enforce whatever I decide,” Odin said.

Hela’s expression turned ugly. “He what?” she asked.

“I decree that for the next year you will spend three hours of every day studying the diplomatic solutions for every insult Asgardian royalty has ever received,” Odin said. “And I expect a summary of what you have learned every week.”

“Ooooh… I have like three whole chapters in Saga’s latest work on the subject,” Loki said. “It’s because I can’t stop insulting King Bor…ing.”

Hela was looking at her father with outrage. “That’s ridiculous!” she snapped. “I’m not doing that!”

“If you don’t so it then you will be locked up in the dungeons for the year instead,” Odin said.

Hela spat. “I’ll take the dungeons,” she said.

“Think carefully,” Loki said. “Remember what we talked about before your father interrupted us.”

Hela paused and growled in frustration under her breath. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do the study.”

“You begin tomorrow,” Odin said. “If I am not satisfied with your reports I will extend the time.”

“Fine,” Hela spat. “You two can leave now.”

They left her alone to stew angrily at her fate.

“What did you say to her?” Odin asked as they walked back through the palace corridors.

“I told her that she can do whatever she wants but she needs to accept that there will be consequences for her choices,” Loki said, “and that when you choose to take an action, you also chose to take on those consequences, and that trying to get out of them is cowardice.”

“And that worked?” Odin said.

“Hela doesn’t think like the rest of you,” Loki said. “I personally think she’s completely unstable and will never be fit to rule, but as long as she _is_ in your line of succession I will at least try to talk her into acting a little less destructively.”

“You seem to have gotten through to her better than me,” Odin conceded.

“That’s because I didn’t set her any homework,” Loki said, pulling a face. “Bor really agreed to that?”

“I was surprised he didn’t fight me on it, but it appears that her actions have made him realise that something must be done, otherwise she will be a terrible Queen one day,” Odin said.

Loki turned knowing eyes onto Odin.

“Found a girl you like yet?” he asked.

“What?” Odin asked.

“You know, for the son you need to disinherit her,” Loki said bluntly.

“I’m not looking for – “ Odin started to say but dropped the act when he saw Loki’s expression, “not yet, no.”

“Pity you can’t just choose your heir,” Loki said. “Nal would make a fantastic queen.”

“Nal?” Odin asked.

“Pay attention, Brother, one of your daughters very clearly has your brains for queenship, and it’s not your eldest,” Loki said.


	23. What it Takes to be a King

Eitri and his retinue left early the next morning. Over a year of planning, building and hoped-for negotiations were disregarded in an instant. Bor bid them goodbye with every possible curtesy, although inside he was seething at how quickly everything had gone awry. 

“I want her punished,” he said to Odin as they walked away from the landing pad after Eitri’s ship had departed. 

“I have already assigned her punishment,” Odin said. “Hopefully it will be educational as well.”

“She will never be a good queen,” Bor said. “You need a son.”

Odin slowly nodded. “I love Hela, she is… she has… she’s my daughter, but there is no denying that now we are at peace she has no _place_ in Asgard. I wish that she did, it is her home after all, but she cannot stop her darkest impulses. The war fed them too well and now she searches for victims all the time.”

“She drove back more than one wave of Titans almost single-handedly,” Bor said. “She’s a hero of our people, but you are right, she needs death to keep her calm, otherwise there’s no telling what she might do.”

“I remember suggesting once that she be your executioner,” Odin said. “That was before she left to pursue the rogue Titan.”

“Yes, and I think now that she’s back I should make it official,” Bor said. “Then maybe she will be able to hold back her more impulsive behaviour. Eitri won’t trade with us now, you and I both know it.”

“He may do so in time, after her punishment has been shown to be effective,” Odin said hopefully.

Bor shook his head. “Not as long as Brokkr remains in the picture,” he said. “Eitri may come around one day, but his brother will ensure we are never forgiven. The Dwarf workshops are closed to us, so we must find another solution.”

“We can build up our blacksmiths,” Odin said. “Offer incentives to those who will take on apprentices.”

“Good idea. Most of the army wield standard swords anyway,” Bor said. “We don’t _need_ the Dwarves for that… it would have been mighty convenience though.”

“No sense worrying about it now,” Odin said. “I’ll do some research into what incentives are likely to be effective and draft the decree.”

Bor nodded. “Make it a priority; our first recruits, since the war, are almost out of training and our stock of weapons is lower than everyone other than you, I and General Hymir know about.”

****

Daianya walked to the door of General Solveig’s office and knocked. She had received a summons that morning with her breakfast and had headed down promptly out of duty, although her mind was still dwelling on the death of Sindri.

“Come in,” General Solveig called out.

Daianya entered and was surprised to see Tyr already there, standing at attention. She did the same.

“Daianya, good, right on time,” Solveig said. “I have given some thought to your training. You need someone who can match your strength in order for you to properly improve your speed and agility. Therefore I have decided that you will train with Tyr for three hours every week.”

Daianya looked across at where Tyr was standing. He hadn’t changed much in the last year. He still looked about fifteen, although as man, admittedly an Asgardian one, his strength was likely to be similar to her own.

“Yes General,” Daianya said.

Tyr grinned at her. “I’ve heard you improved a lot; I knew you would,” he said.

Daianya wished she could give him a slightly warmer expression than a bad grimace, but her mind was still on the disaster that had occurred the night before. Sindri had been almost ten feet tall, and he’d had a lot of blood. Most of it had ended up on the floor, but a great deal had soaked into her dress as she’d tried to save him.

“The training will be in the evenings, as that is the only time you both appear to be free,” she said, looking over their respective training schedules. “You will not be supervised regularly, although you will both be tested on your improvements periodically. Do you understand?” 

“Yes General,” they said together.

“Good, Tyr, you may go, Daianya, stay a moment.”

Tyr gave Solveig a nod and left the room.

Solveig sighed softly and nodded at Daianya. “Relax,” she said, “I just want to add one more thing before you go.”

Daianya let her shoulders relax and tried to look more settled on her feet.

“Tyr is cocky,” Solveig said bluntly. “He’s damn good in the training yard, and quite a few of the fully grown warriors have been beaten by him one on one, in fact it’s happening more and more often. One day he will be a fantastic warrior, but I have doubts about his ability to be a general as his father hopes.”

Daianya frowned. “He excels in Commander Gunhild’s classes on tactics and strategy,” she said.

“Yes he does, but the scenarios he studies in the classroom are nothing like being in a real battle. He sees only numbers, not people. A General must be able to see both,” Solveig said. “It’s not enough to know you have thirty warriors on your left flank, you have to know what they are capable of, both individually and as a group, otherwise you run the risk of misusing them.”

Daianya nodded in understanding.

“I want you to train with him because I think you have the ability to beat him, not yet, no, he will win every bout you fight in the beginning, but you have a better mind for strategy and your strength increases every day. I want you to train until you beat him, and then I want you to beat him until he learns to stop underestimating everyone,” Solveig said.

Daianya’s disbelief showed on her face.

“I have been the General of the Valkyrie for a thousand years,” Solveig said. “Believe me; I know what I am doing. You have your father’s mind for grand strategy and your grandfather’s instinct for close combat. Tyr learns nothing useful from the books and exercises we give him, but he learns quickly and well from the world around him. Learn to beat him, Daianya, because he needs the lesson.”

Daianya nodded again. “I will do my best, General,” she said.

“You always do,” Solveig said with a smile. “Dismissed.”

Daianya headed out to the exercise yard to work with the weights.

****

Eitri sat in the captain’s chair and stared at nothing.

He had planned to come to Asgard in a great and impressive state. He had planned to show off his wealth and the expertise of his people. He had planned to be sly, be cunning and be clever, and to achieve exactly what he wanted without Bor being ever the wiser. 

He had had so many plans.

Now he had a ship full of gold, payment in name only for the weapons that he and his brother made. No, the truth was that it was payment for the life of his brother. Wergild, but without the shame or the admission of guilt that should have come with it.

He didn’t blame Odin. Perhaps he should, but he had seen the look on the crown prince’s face when Hela had struck. Odin had been horrified, and he had rushed to help. Princess Daianya too had gotten blood all over her dress as she tried to staunch the bleeding. 

Eitri blamed Hela first and foremost, but also Bor, for failing to see that he had a vicious murderer in his own family. Hela wasn’t a warrior bound by honour. She was evil; Eitri was convinced of it. And he was similarly convinced that Bor enjoyed keeping her around to intimidate others into cowering before him. Why else would he allow her to roam free? She was unstable and violent. 

He could only hope that one day, when Odin took the throne, that Hela would be finally locked away in the dungeons of Asgard where she belonged, if not executed for the crimes Eitri had no doubt she was committing in secret.

Brokkr had been silent ever since the ship left Asgard. It would take them nine days to return to Nidavellir, and Eitri didn’t expect him to speak for at least that long, which was why he was surprised when Brokkr suddenly appeared at his side.

“I need to know what you are planning,” he said. 

“Why do you think I am planning?” Eitri asked. “Brother I am grieving.”

“You are also planning, you would not be a king if you weren’t,” Brokkr said. “Tell me, because I will not rest unless I know you are planning for revenge against them.”

Eitri nodded slowly. I am indeed,” he said. “I still have that client, the one I told you about? Who wished to have a gauntlet capable of withstanding Asgardian weapons specifically?”

Brokkr nodded. “You took the commission?” he asked.

“The client did not seem to be able to pay at the time, so I declined,” Eitri said. “But I can still contact the messenger he used, and perhaps his fortunes have changed.”

“What if they haven’t?” Brokkr asked.

“Then, in honour of my brother, I shall be offering him a heavy discount,” Eitri said.

****

King Bor returned to his office summoned his secretary.

“Find Hela and tell her I want to see her,” he said.

The secretary paled but bowed and whispered “Yes, your Majesty,” in a trembling voice before leaving the room.

Bor sat down heavily at his desk. He had a several large problems to solve and he didn’t like any of the potential solutions. He had allowed Odin to set Hela a punishment, but he knew it was unlikely to get her to change her ways. Hela had been a violent, vicious little child from the moment she could summon a knife, an act which had taken place disturbingly early. No god had ever come into their power sooner; except for Daianya, but her accelerated growth explained that. No god had ever come into their power so _early in their development_ as Hela. 

That Nursemaid, what was her name? Bor couldn’t remember, but he’d had to pay her family quite a lot in compensation. The poor woman had picked Hela up to change her and a second later she had fallen to the ground dead, not a single sign of life left in her entire body. Little Hela had just laughed as everyone around her panicked or tried to save the woman.

And then there was Hela’s mother. That balcony, like all those in the palace, was half a foot thick and stomach high. Everyone had believed Hela when she said her mother had tripped and fallen over, but then who would doubt a thirteen year old? 

Loki had, and had said as much to Bor even as he comforted Odin as best he could. Bor had dismissed him out of hand like he always did, but there was no denying that Hela had never cried at the loss of her mother, or was even seen to grieve at all.

As an adult, Hela had visited the sparring rings every day, and the illegal fighting matches every night. She had delighted in reports of death and destruction and her only true interest when under instruction from tutors had been when they covered Asgard’s previous wars – specifically the part where the death numbers were calculated.

Had it not been for the Titan war, Bor might have done something about Hela sooner, although what he wasn’t quite sure. But the fact was the war had happened, and Hela had gone to fight along with the rest of them, and she had excelled on the battlefield, almost as much as Bor himself. She was an honest to goodness war hero, and many Asgardian warriors owed their lived to her, albeit indirectly, no one had ever reported Hela _intentionally_ saving their life.

Odin still held out hope that she could learn to be better, but then his greatest weakness had always been his children. If Hela couldn’t change then Odin would never be able to handle her once he was the king. 

There was a knock on the door and Bor’s secretary entered. “Princess Hela is outside, your Majesty,” he said.

“Send her in,” Bor said.

Hela walked as though she was in total command, which annoyed Bor more than it normally did. She should be cowered. She should be ashamed. But she was Hela, and such emotions were not in her nature.

“Your Majesty,” she said with a smirk.

“Your bloodlust ruined my trade deal,” Bor said bluntly.

Hela’s smirk vanished, leaving an annoyed expression in its place. “Honestly you should thank me, the Dwarf was so annoying,” she said, “and insulting to your granddaughter.”

“You don’t give a shit about Anima,” Bor said. “You wanted to kill him because _you_ wanted a death, it could have been anyone, admit it.”

Hela’s smirk returned. “I’m bored,” she said. “I lost the Titan and I need satisfaction. At least someone around here gets it.”

Bor regarded her thoughtfully. “I… do understand,” he said at last. “I feel the same call to battle extremely often, but we must live with the realm we have, and right now we are at peace.”

Hela rolled her eyes. “You’re the king, you could do something about that,” she said.

Bor shook his head. “There’s more to being a king than declaring war,” he said.

“That’s what Father keeps saying, I don’t see why that has to be the case,” Hela said.

“I’m making you my executioner,” Bor said, watching her face carefully. “Peace is necessary but there is still crime, and some of it bad enough to require the most severe penalty.

Hela’s eyes lit up and a smile came to her face that made Bor’s skin crawl. “Thank you, your Majesty,” she said.

“You begin tomorrow,” Bor said. “But know this, Hela, I do not want to hear of any more unauthorised deaths. The trouble you have caused will have ramifications for decades, maybe longer.”

Hela smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes and gave him a bow. “Of course, your Majesty, I promise to kill only as you command.”

“Good, you may go.”

Hela sauntered away; Bor watched her go with great concern. Like it or not, and he very much did not, he had to face what Odin still refused to: Hela could never rule Asgard.

She could be Bor’s executioner, a job which she would no doubt take great pleasure in, but the throne? No. She was entirely unsuitable.

The easiest solution would be for Odin to have a son, but there was no guarantee of that. Odin was fortunate to have four children already, most Asgardians did not have more than that in their lifetime, and those that did usually had them far apart. If he remarried and had another daughter then it might be millennia before a son was born, if at all.

A backup plan was required.

Bor looked down at the letter on his desk. It had arrived a week ago. He had been reluctant to address it, and now he realised why.

King Dimckin of Vanaheim was formally requesting that his son, Prince Norbleen, be considered as a future husband of Princess Daianya. They were both at the same stage of development in their lives and they seemed to get along during the brief time they had spoken at Daianya’s coming of age celebration. It would only take a few official visits to see whether this initial impression was correct for them both and then an engagement could be announced. Such a match would be very popular with both realms and help tie them together more closely than their current treaty. It was a good idea. 

Bor picked up the letter and stared at it for a long time, then he very deliberately turned and placed it in the fireplace, and watched it burn.

It would be better, for now, if Daianya stayed on Asgard. She was Hela’s heir after all.

Decision made, Bor then turned to the other problem he now faced.

Weapons. Asgard rarely made their own in high quantities; they simply didn’t have the manpower. But now that they were forced to consider it they were going to need the raw materials, and that meant Bor was going to have to establish a trade agreement with Jotunheim.

Jotunheim steel was the best weapons-grade material outside of uru, which was far too rare to waste on the regular army. The Dwarves had a standing arrangement to purchase what they needed and then sold the finished product, and Bor had been prepared to pay for the convenience, but now he would have to deal directly with King Grundroth. 

Bor sighed and tapped his fingers against his desk. He hadn’t wanted to have any dealings with the King of Jotunhem for at least a century, in order to be sure that the new King’s reign was stable, but circumstances were forcing his hand.

Bor picked up a pen and began to draft a letter. Just over a year ago King Grundroth had invited him to visit to discuss ‘trade’ – a thinly veiled code for ‘your granddaughter’. That same concern regarding stability had stayed Bor’s hand so far, but if putting Nal on the negotiating table got him the steel he needed then she would just have to manage.

He wrote his second draft out more carefully once he decided on the exact wording he wished to use. No promises, just an inquiry as to whether the offer of a visit was still open. No doubt he would hear from King Grundroth in about three days, long enough to appear to have thought it over, but short enough not to test Bor’s patience.

Bor summoned his secretary and handed him the letter.

“Take this to the Bifrost and have it sent to King Grundroth of Jotunheim,” he said. “And then bring me a copy of the current laws of succession; I wish to review them.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the secretary said.


	24. Jotunheim

Odin and Loki were enjoying a quiet drink and a game of strategy, which Odin was winning, when Bor entered Odin’s rooms.

“Good, you’re here too,” he said to Loki.

Loki turned to look at Odin with an exaggerated expression of bewilderment.

“I’ve been invited to go to Jotunheim to discuss trade,” Bor said. “I intend to accept. You’ll have to rule in my absence,” he said to Odin, “and you, Trickster, I want you to tell me anything you know about Grundroth. I’ve heard rumours that he killed the old king.”

Loki shook his head. “Nah, he damn near worshiped the guy. Not every heir apparent is a secret murderer.”

Bor frowned thoughtfully. “So it really was an accident?”

“Drapht hunting is dangerous even with all the precautions; an accident is most likely, no one other than Grundroth could have inherited anyway,” Loki said, “And like I said, he loved King Hailstrum, the man was like a father to him, at least, I think that’s what fathers are like, I never had one myself.” 

Bor considered his words. “Do you think his rule will be stable? He wasn’t related to Hailstrum.”

“Jotun kings don’t follow the familial line of succession like most other races, they have their own ceremonies. Grundroth made it through the challenge, and right now he’s the only one who has, so he has no challenger. His rule will be as stable as any other king’s,” Loki said.

“He wants to marry Nal,” Bor said.

Loki choked on his wine. “What?”

“I wasn’t happy about it either,” Odin said, “and neither were you, Father, you said – ”

“I know, but Malekith decided to stand on his pride. Any thoughts I had in that direction are off,” Bor said as Loki cough madly into his napkin.

 _“Malekith?!!!”_ he exclaimed. Bor ignored him.

“If Grundroth can prove a stable reign I’ll consider giving my permission,” he said to Odin.

Loki frowned instantly. “Jotun women are not goods to be sold,” he said.

Bor glared at him. “My Granddaughter, a Princess of Asgard, will do as she is bid,” he said.

Loki’s expression turned dark. “Grundroth has no business trying to arrange a marriage,” he said, “that’s an Asgardian ceremony.”

Bor shot an equally dark look at him. “I don’t care what Jotnir do normally. His request to discuss trade treaties is a thin cover, but I’m willing to play along for a bit and see what he’s willing to concede for her.”

Loki leaned back in his chair and swallowed another mouthful of wine. “You know, it’s been simply ages since I last visited my mother, I think I’ll come along, at least as far as the end of the Bifrost.”

Bor grunted. “I don’t care what you do, Trickster, as long as you don’t do it near me,” he said.

****

The Bifrost bathed the gloomy light of Jotunheim in bright white, making those who saw it wince and look away.

When it faded, it revealed half a dozen figures. Two in particular stood out from the crowd. One was King Bor, naturally tall and imposing, with his helmet on his head he seemed even more so. The other was shorter, although not by much, and far more lanky. His clothing was brighter and much more decorative.

“Ah, Jotunheim, there’s nothing quite as bracing as a frigid howling wind from across the ice plains,” Loki said, breathing deeply.

A retinue of Jotun warriors were heading towards them. Bor’s four guards all straightened up and watched them closely.

“It’s as dim and dull as I remember,” Bor said.

“You just don’t have the right eyes to appreciate the beauty in endless icy wasteland,” Loki said. “Do you really want to send Nal here for the rest of her life?”

“She’d fit in better than anyone else,” Bor said.

“I don’t know, Nal loves flowers and gardens; something Jotunheim has a noticeable lack of – I know! You could send Hela, this place is filled with harsh struggles and pitiful deaths – she’d have a ball.”

“Hela is the heir to the throne,” Bor said.

“But if she wasn’t you’d consider it?” Loki prodded.

Bor growled dismissively and stalked away from him.

“I’m just saying,” Loki said, jogging after him, “that you have four goddess granddaughters; do you really want to lose them to other realms?”

“I have two goddess granddaughters, the other two are conveniently talented,” Bor said, “and will serve me better in alliances than on the battlefield.”

“They are real gods,” Loki said. “I’m certain of it. I’m not sure what Nal is the goddess of yet but she’s got something, I swear, and I’m convinced that Anima really is the Goddess of Magic, that girl’s got far too much power even for a normal mortal sorcerer.”

Bor rolled his eyes. “No she hasn’t,” he said. “She barely casts anything of note, and she isn’t the Goddess of Magic, only Aesir and Asgardians can be gods, but it’s a useful title all the same.”

“I say she _is_ a real god and one day she will prove it to you,” Loki insisted.

Bor gave him a look that made it plain that he was sick of the sight of him.

“You are wrong, Trickster, plain and simple.”

“Bet you I’m not?”

Bor rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered; his escort was almost there. 

“If I’m wrong, I will leave Asgard forever,” Loki offered.

Bor paused, and turned to look at him.

“But if I’m right, you have to give me my own castle,” Loki continued.

“That’s a stupid bet,” Bor said. “The only way to prove she isn’t a god is for her never to take a goddess form, but that _also_ means that she might not have done so _yet_. As long as she remains the same, you can’t be proven right _or_ wrong.”

“Only until the end of her life, which, with her being mortal, is about a hundred years away,” Loki pointed out. “So in a hundred years I will either own a castle or leave Asgard forever.”

“Deal,” Bor said quickly as he realised what Loki was saying. “I look forward to seeing the last of you.”

And with that he turned and walked away to be greeted by General Thrym.

****

Loki watched King Bor go with a disappointed expression. The king really was a complete letdown as a person. It was almost pathetic watching him try to be political. In Loki’s personal opinion (and therefore the one everyone _ought_ to adhere to), Bor should hand the throne over to Odin as soon as possible. Bor was built for battle, without it he was a just a brute with a crown.

Shaking his head and affecting a cheerful expression, Loki concentrated and teleported himself across the icy plains occupied by the motherless men of Jotunheim and to the outside of the fortified walls of Utgard.

Utgard was his mother’s stronghold, and it had been a while since he’d had the chance to visit her. Loki made his way to the gate and knocked.

There was no answer. The gates were two feet thick and made of solid wood, which meant that his knock was almost certainly a wasted effort. 

Oh well, that’s why mother gave him magic.

Loki concentrated and knocked again. His spell magnified the strength of his arm, making his knock echo loudly, and the door wobble with the impact.

This time the door opened and a head looked out.

“It’s me!” Loki hollered cheerfully.

“Good to see you,” the gatekeeper, Loki’s older brother Morgor, said to him.

The door had opened wide enough to admit him and he sauntered inside.

“Where’s Mum?” he asked.

“In her sitting room, working,” Morgor said. “I’ll take you. How have you been? Asgard still standing?”

Loki let his brother transport him across the yard and through the doors of the magnificent castle of ice that sat in the centre.

“It is, yes,” he said.

“What’s the problem? I thought you’d have that place a smoking ruin by now,” Morgor said.

Loki shrugged. “Your disappointment is just something I’ll have to live with,” he said. “But you’ll be please to know that the three princesses are all grown up.”

“I’d prefer to hear about one in particular,” Morgor said. “I think most of the men in Jotunheim would like to hear about her.”

“She no different to any other Jotun woman,” Loki said.

“She’s a Jotun daughter born from a mortal mother, that’s all the different she needs to be,” Morgor said. “Do you think she’d like a little coding from someone like me?”

Loki waved a hand breezily. “If she’s like any other woman, then she’ll taste you based on your size alone, but that doesn’t mean she’ll like what she reads.”

Morgor grunted. “I am a credit to Mother,” he said.

“And I’m not?” Loki asked.

“You’re a little short,” Morgor said with a teasing grin. 

“An old argument,” Loki said, “I shan’t rise to it.”

“You can barely rise to anything, look at you, you’re a midget,” Morgor teased.

Loki stuck his tongue out as they reached the door to their mother’s rooms. Morgor knocked and waited to hear her call out admittance.

“Enter, Loki.”

Morgor pushed open the door and Loki skipped inside, pulling a face at his brother as Morgor closed the door behind him.

And then all that was left was to make his way across the room to the table at the far side.

It took him a few minutes, and when he reached it he looked up at his mother.

Farbauti was known as one of the greatest women on Jotunheim. Her children were powerful, clever, talented, and charming. Loki was her last child and, she had always claimed, her masterpiece.

She looked at him with a smile and then leaned down, lowering her hand until it sat even with the floor. Loki climbed on and let himself be raised up onto her table.

Farbauti was sixty feet tall. Her stronghold was the largest in Jotunheim, both in size and in strength of numbers. She was impressive for her own sake, not just those of her children. There were rumours about what her mother had done in order to gather the code necessary to create a giant among giants, and she had quietly encouraged them. It never hurt to make people stand in awe of you.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked her as he climbed onto the table.

“Watching over the realm,” Farbauti said, gesturing to the scrying ball in front of her. In it Loki could see King Bor and King Grundroth talking.

“The King of the Unwanted meets the Unwanted King,” Farbauti said calmly. “They are discussing your young Princess.”

“Grundroth wants her all to himself,” Loki said. “But he can’t have her; it’s not our way.”

“Her way is not for you to decide,” Farbauti chided gently. “Only she can choose her path, perhaps she will want a king to bring some familiarity to her life.”

Loki shook his head. “She’d be miserable here. She was born surrounded by flowers. They say Yggdrasil itself bloomed at the moment of her birth. That sort of thing influences a person.”

Farbauti smiled a knowing smile. “An odd preference for one so cold, and she is cold, isn’t she? Her heart is made of ice.”

“No,” Loki countered, “her body is cold, her mind is sharp as an icicle, but her heart is warm in spite of itself.”

“You are certain?”

“I am.”

“Then for the second time in my life I find myself surprised by the path Yggdrasil unveils before me,” Farbauti said. “I had thought her very cold in every aspect; no doubt she was intended as such.”

“Nal wasn’t intended at all,” Loki said. “There was one child which was split into three by the power of the spell which killed the mother; I told you this.”

“And yet I find myself with questions,” Farbauti said calmly. “Perhaps it is not my fate to know the plans of one so great as Yggdrasil itself, but still I wonder how three so perfectly _separate_ children could possibly exist? How could the code of a full Jotun be spun from the fragments her father gave her mother? How could a full Aesir? Only the mortal I understand, inside her mother would have provided full access to the mortal code, and yet mortals do not create their children as we do.”

“Maybe it all came from Yggdrasil,” Loki said. “After all, it grew the nine realms and everything in it, surely of all beings it would have the complete code for the three of them.”

Farbauti smiled at him in triumph.

“But why would Yggdrasil care?” she asked. “When does the boot care for the ant?”

Loki peered at the image in the scrying ball again. 

“Can you get sound on this thing?” he asked.

****

Bor sat on a chair of ice, made as comfortable as possible with blankets and a cushion which were made of thick fur. His legs, unfortunately, dangled in the air below him the way a child’s would, but he was pretending not to notice.

“Certainly we would be happy to come to come arrangement regarding our steel,” Grundroth was saying. Do you intend to mine it yourselves? I wouldn’t recommend it, our climate here is harsh for Asgardians on a long term basis, although the price would be higher if you intend to purchase our labour as well as our metal ore.”

“I was hoping for the refined metal, not the ore,” Bor said.

“That is doable, of course, but far more costly. The Dwarves take the ore,” Grundroth said.

“I know, but it would be inconvenient to do as they do, space it at a premium on Asgard and a smelting plant would ruin the area it was placed in,” Bor said.

“And that would not occur on Jotunheim?” Grundroth countered.

Bor looked around at the icy walls and the frozen wasteland visible out of the window. “Your realm is larger,” he said diplomatically. “You have a greater chance of finding somewhere without people who will be affected.”

Grundroth leaned back in his chair. “I would also have to purchase fire to smelt the ore,” he said. 

“I can offer you some,” Bor said, “part of our agreement, if you are willing. We have some Mulspelheim fire left over from the war. It would burn for a thousand years, plenty of heat to smelt the ore.”

“That is… very generous,” Grundroth said. “A thousand years is quite a commitment, your Majesty, do you foresee a long period of stability between our realms?”

Bor leaned forwards and gave Grundroth a knowing look.

“How about we stop talking around the real issue?” he said. “We are both Kings, we both know how these things go. My own wife is from Jotunheim. A deal such as this can be sealed with a marriage, which I believe is what you are slowly hinting towards, am I wrong?”

Grundroth frowned slightly. “No you are not,” he admitted.

“I have an unwed son,” Bor said, “Another Jotun women to be queen would help ensure stability between our realms, would it not?”

Grundroth looked surprised. “I thought,” he started to say and broke off, and then shook his head. “You will not get any of them to agree,” he said. “Jotun women do what they want, and right now there is no need for them to leave their realm behind for another.”

“Then there is no need for my granddaughter to leave her realm for another either,” Bor said. “That is who you wanted, yes? Nal? You did a very good job of not staring at her coming of age celebration but your men were far less discrete.”

Grundroth’s frown deepened. “Do you have doubts about me, your Majesty?” he asked.

Bor nodded curtly. “Frankly? Yes. You are a very new king and I would be a fool to promise Nal to someone who had not yet proven that his reign was stable. In time, say, a century or two, my fear would be placated and I would be happy to talk about a more permanent arrangement between our two peoples, but right now? No. I’ll give you the fire for the labour, and gold for the steel.”

“A century or two? And what if you have a better offer in the meantime?” Grundroth asked.

“Then I shall take it,” Bor said. “And you still get the fire and the gold.”

“No,” Grundroth said. “You need our steel; I want Nal to be my bride.”

Bor went to rise from his seat. “Steel is not exclusive to Jotunheim,” he said.

“The kind we have is the best in the galaxy, and in abundance too,” Grundroth said. “You will not find better and you know it, so perhaps we should both be a little bit more flexible at the negotiating table.”

Bor hesitated. “I’m listening,” he said.

“Give me fourteen years,” Grundroth said, “one full revolution of Jotunheim around its sun. We will mine and smelt your steel for you, and you will provide the fire and the gold, but in fourteen years we will revisit our arrangement and discuss making things a bit more permanent, and in the meantime, no better offers will be considered.”

Bor sank back down onto his seat. “Fourteen years is still fairly short,” he said. 

“Long enough to prove that I am the king of a stable realm,” Grundroth said. “And she need not wed me in fourteen years, a betrothal is sufficient. After it is agreed to you can send her for a visit and I will show her the sights of Jotunheim. I may even win her over; it is, after all, the realm of her people.”

Bor looked thoughtful. “Fourteen years, isn’t that when the convergence is due?” he asked.

“It is within that year, yes. Send her then and she can watch it from my palace and take part in our celebrations. She seemed to enjoy dancing at her feast very much,” Grundroth said, “with a retinue, of course.”

Bor leaned over and held out his arm.

“I feel that this is an arrangement with a lot of merit,” he said. “We can discuss visits and things when the time approaches, but fourteen years of trade is a good start.”

Grundroth reached out and they clasped at the wrist.

“I look forward to our new arrangement,” he said.

****

Loki leaned back away from the scrying ball and groaned theatrically.

“Why?! Why does he cause me such misery?” he asked, throwing his arms out. “Grundroth should know better, what is he playing at?”

“He hopes to catch himself a woman,” Farbauti said. “They all do, these motherless men, they want a place in a woman’s home again. They want the honour of being a permanent companion, like my three suitors.”

“Then their mothers should have made them better,” Loki said. 

“It’s not about the way they are made, my child,” Farbauti said. “I honoured my suitors to varying degrees with several of my children, but I let them stay because I love them. They make me laugh, and they hold me close when I desire it. They are my life-mates, my, what’s the Asgardian word?”

“Husbands,” Loki said. “Although Asgardians usually only have one.”

“A husband is what you get when you vow to make children with him only,” Farbauti said, disdain dripping from her words. “They are not that, I would never swear that, but I love them for who they are, not the children they might give me.”

“Soul mate?” Loki suggested.

Farbauti nodded. “A much better term, and one that can’t be forced. Grundroth is trying to cheat himself into great honour and a place by a woman’s side, whether he succeeds, for now, remains is a mystery.”

Loki shook his head. “Nal will never accept him,” he said. “I won’t let her make such a stupid mistake.”

Farbauti gave him a smile and look that saw right into his soul, but “Oh?” was all she said.


	25. Moving On

That night Bor sat on the left hand side of King Grundroth and allowed himself to be entertained by the Jotun warriors as he ate dinner. The day had been taken up with the details of the trade agreement, but now the hard work was done, quantities were established, timelines set, and there was nothing left to do but enjoy his food.

He had not seen Loki since they had arrived, and he had no idea if the trickster was planning to return at the same time as him the following morning. He didn’t much care either; Loki of Utgard could stay on Jotunheim forever as far as Bor was concerned.

The bet they had made had him in a good mood. Loki of Utgard was naturally impulsive, frequently too impulsive for his own good. Betting on a mortal to be a god was ridiculous, and no doubt Loki would try to find a way to alter the terms of the bet once he realised what he had promised.

Bor had no intention of letting him. An Asgard with no Loki? No power other than Yggdrasil itself could convince him to take back the bet, and even then he’d be reluctant.

So it was with a good mood that Bor ate and drank and watched the entertainment provided by the King of Jotunheim’s court.

****

Loki had dinner with his family. The great hall of Utgard was the size of a small mountain. It needed to be to accommodate all of Farbauti’s children, most of which were over fifty feet tall, and with some as much as eighty feet.

Loki sat on the table with his back resting against one of his brothers’ cup and listened to the chatter all around him. He had grown up in this vast hall; he had learnt to teleport just to go from one side of the room to another. He was the smallest of all of Farbauti’s children, but he had the most magical ability by a long way.

Feeling thirsty, he rose from his sitting position and levitated himself up to the rim of his brother’s cup.

He balanced on the edge for a second, then hooked both legs over the top and lowered himself backward down the side until his head was near the wine.

“Quite alright, little brother?” his brother, Jordmir asked him in amusement.

“I’m managing,” Loki said determinedly.

“You should have brought your own little cup for drinking,” Jordmir said, chuckling as he pulled Loki out by the legs and held him at eye height upside down.

“I was just about to grow one, if you would be so kind as to put me back,” Loki said, dangling freely.

Jordmir lowered him back into the cup and held him still as Loki shaped a rough vessel out of ice and dipped it into the wine.

“Okay!” he yelled, and Jordmir pulled him back out.

Loki drank his wine triumphantly and put his little cup down on the table when he was done.

“What do I have to do to get some meat around here?” he asked.

“The platter’s right there,” Jordmir said cheerfully.

‘Right there’ was a hundred metres away; Loki started jogging.

The rim of the platter was waist high, and he climbed up with a slight grunt. Navigating the gravy traps wasn’t easy, especially as the wine had been quite potent and was starting to kick in, but he managed to climb one peak of the mountain of meat and started pulling a serving for himself from beneath his feet.

“I hope you washed your shoes,” Morgor said to him with a grin.

“You eat so much dirt on a regular basis I doubt you’d notice,” Loki shot back, pulling free a hunk of meat that was half the size he was. He held it up to his mouth and took a bite.

“Here, brother, let me get you some fruit,” Morgor said, bringing a pear the size of a small room down to sit on the table where Loki was scrambling off the platter with his prize in hand.

“That’s big, even for here,” Loki said.

“Forinst has been experimenting with crossbreeding,” Morgor said. “He’s got apples so big you could hollow them out and live in them.”

“Tempting,” Loki said, “but I’m going to own a castle in less than a hundred years so I think I’ll decline to live in an apple for now.”

“A castle? Who is going to gift you a castle?” Morgor asked.

“King Bor, he’s equally certain that he is not, but he hasn’t worked out yet that I always win,” Loki said. “As soon as you put me down I pop back up again, like – “

“Like a whilterwalt weed,” Morgor teased. “Never wanted, always a pest, and utterly useless.”

“Hey! Criptiees grow on them!” Loki said. “And where would we be without criptiees?”

“Less itchy,” Morgor said at once. “Criptiees are not a selling point, brother, they are about the only thing more annoying than whilterwalt weed.”

Loki pouted dramatically. “That’s it, you are not invited to my castle,” he said, and took another bite of meat.

Morgor just laughed.

****

Daianya entered the training grounds with some trepidation. Today was her first training session with Tyr, and she wasn’t entirely certain how it was going to go. It was true that Tyr was cocky, and his inflated sense of importance was likely to cause him to be a bad winner which would be irritating, and in addition, should Daianya ever manage to beat him then he was likely to be a sore loser as well.

He was already there, and warming up. Daianya walked over to where he was and began her stretches.

“I’ve been here for half an hour,” Tyr said. “I’m ready to get started whenever you are.”

Daianya nodded at him. “I had classes until now, so I’m afraid you will have to wait until I am fully warmed up.”

She went through her stretches and warmup exercises at her normal pace, refusing to be hurried into starting early by Tyr’s stare. After fifteen minutes she turned to him and smiled. “Ready?” she asked.

They picked up their swords and entered one of the rings.

“So we just fight now?” Tyr asked. “No direction or exercises?”

“That’s what General Solveig said,” Daianya said. “She wants us to practice our creativity and thinking on our feet.”

Tyr lunged forwards without warning. Daianya skipped backwards to avoid him and almost lost her balance.

“Okay then,” Tyr said, grinning cheekily.

Daianya made a mental note never to let her guard down even when Tyr appeared to be only talking.

He circled to his left, and she followed his movement, watching his body closely for signs of his next move.

He feinted with his sword, but it was obvious because he tensed the muscles he needed to pull back before he even lunged. Daianya let the feint go by and waited.

He came at her with a series of blows. These were harder and stronger than the ones the other Valkyrie, other than her fellow Aesir, had been able to land on her. She countered each one with increasing difficulty, and by the time he was done her arm was already starting to ache.

She could see what Solveig meant. Daianya had been catching the blows from the Valkyrie dead on and pushing them back as a separate action, but doing so against a stronger opponent was a wasteful use of energy. She needed to deflect the blows to the side if she wanted to have any chance of beating him.

Tyr struck again and Daianya concentrated on letting him hit at an angle so that his blow would slide off. It wasn’t easy to calculate on the fly and she could feel herself starting to fall back.

Tyr pushed his advantage and swung again, deliberately locking their swords together and using his height and strength to push down against her.

Daianya gritted her teeth as she strained against him, trying to break the lock without losing her sword. Tyr pushed harder again and her feet began to slip underneath her.

With a yelp, Daianya fell to the ground. Her back hit the dirt hard and Tyr landed on top if her, his sword already at her throat.

“Victory mine,” he said cheerfully.

She nodded, and he got up off her.

“You were pretty good though,” he said. “It was just like fighting one of the boys, I know Solveig said you were strong but I still wasn’t expecting you to hold me back like that.”

Daianya shook out her sword arm; it was already aching. “Aesir are naturally strong,” she said. 

“I know, I can’t hold back any of the Aesir men I train with,” Tyr said. “Father wants me to fight them but they aren’t interested. They keep saying I’m still just a boy and they’ll fight me when I’m a man.”

“How will you get better if they won’t fight against you?” Daianya asked.

“I won’t, that’s why Father is so angry at them, but he can’t make them, well, he can order them to but when he did they broke my arm in a single blow and told me to come back when I was a man, so…” Tyr said, waving his arm in a circular motion as he trailed off.

Daianya frowned. “That’s crazy,” she said.

“That’s the army,” Tyr said. “Besides, the Aesir aren’t really that good at fighting anyway. They hit things hard but there’s no skill in that, and half of them go berserk on the battlefield anyway so _they_ don’t need any training.”

“I’ve never seen a berserker in action,” Daianya said.

Tyr grinned. “I’ve only seen it in the archives, but it’s impressive. I wish I could go berserk, then I wouldn’t have to learn how to use a sword. Are you ready to go again?”

Daianya stepped back into the ring and held her sword up. “Let’s go,” she said.

He beat her in two minutes.

“Do you want to see the archive with the berserkers?” Tyr asked her as he hauled her to her feet. “I could show you in the library?”

“Sure,” Daianya said, “When our lessons are done.”

Tyr grinned at her. “Awesome, are you ready to try again?”

****

Anima left the kitchens with a full bag and took the elevator up to her room. She got changed into her blue dress, the one that made her eyes stand out, and put a ribbon in her hair. Satisfied with how she looked, she slung the bag over her shoulder and picked up the tesseract.

In an instant she was in the forest on Midgard, just a few steps away from Niler’s hut. Senan was outside, twisting some thin sticks along the edge of the roof to keep the furs and grass in position.

“How are you?” Anima said, walking up. “I brought some food to share.”

He grinned at her. “I’m farin’ well, look I’ve grown a few new hairs.”

Anima made a show of searching his chin, which made him laugh and waggle a finger at her in mock disapproval. “I don’t know why I bother,” he said, “Nothin’ short of a full beard is ever going to impress you.”

Anima sat down and started unpacking the bag. Senan’s eyes lit up as he saw cheese and soft bread, and peppers and – 

“Potatoes!” he exclaimed. “I love potatoes. I wish I could grow them around here.”

“I don’t see why you can’t,” Anima said, looking around. “I don’t know anything about gardening, but the soil is quite dark and soft, isn’t that normally good for growing vegetables?”

“Normally, how do you grow them?” Senan asked.

“I have no idea,” Anima said, holding one up. “I’ll have to ask my sister, maybe they have seeds? Although I’ve never seen any, even in the raw ones. Maybe it’s one of those vegetables that grow underground.”

Senan shrugged. “It looks like a root vegetable, I must say, although I can’t test the theory because these one have all been cooked. I’ll wrap them in a few leaves and put them by the fire to heat up. Maybe if you can get seeds from your sister then I can try growing my own.”

“I’ll ask,” Anima said. “Oh here, I brought butter.”

Niler came out from the hut and shuffled over. “Welcome, Princess,” he said.

Anima smiled at him. “Hello Niler, how are you?”

“Old and creaky, but otherwise doing just fine, and yourself?”

“Young and bouncy,” Anima said, “as always.”

He chuckled. “Are you now? That’s good to hear, I miss being young and bouncy. I had a grand old time when I was young and bouncy.”

Senan was watching her, his expression one of intense thought.

“What?” Anima asked him.

“ _Are_ you alright, Fairy Princess? You seem troubled,” he asked.

Anima shook her head. “I just want to have lunch,” she said.

Senan came and sat right beside her. “And why do you just want to do that? What happened that made you want to talk to no one?” he asked.

Anima looked at him for a long moment. “How could you tell?” she asked at last.

“I’ve gotten to know you fairly well, I think, Fairy Princess and you seem like there’s something on your mind that you aren’t wanting to talk about,” Senan said.

Anima took a deep breath. “A man died recently,” she said. “He was a guest in the home of my grandfather. He was rude and said some nasty things about me, but even so, he should not have died like that.”

“Like what?” Senan asked.

“My sister stabbed him through the chest,” Anima said. “He bled to death on the floor of the great hall, and the very next night we ate dinner there as though it had never happened. But it _did_ happen. The King is furious at my sister, my father is anxious and worried about what to do, tensions between our people and the Dwarves are now extremely high, and _I couldn’t save him!_ ”

That last point was almost screamed. Anima’s face was screwed up in frustration and anger, two emotions she rarely felt or displayed.

“I can weave a spell so powerful that it can demolish an entire training yard, but when a man lay on the floor fighting for his life I could do nothing! I never studied the spells of healing. I never thought to, the healers’ were always available, but by the time they got there it was too late. Daianya did more than me and she has no healing power at all! I could have done something, if only I had studied the right spells!”

Senan put his arm around her and pulled her into a hug. “You can’t go blamin’ yourself for the actions of your sister,” he said. “And that _is_ what you are doin’, the consequences of her actions aren’t yours to anticipate or clean up. If you think this’ll happen again then you can start studyin’ healin’ spells, but don’t be angry at yourself for not being psychic.” 

Anima wiped her eyes with her sleeves. “I still feel guilty,” she said. “What’s the point of having magic if you can’t use it to help people?”

“Then use it to help people,” Niler said, making her turn to face him, “the past is over, Princess, you can learn from it but you can’t change it, so let yourself feel sad for a little while, and then pick yourself up and move forwards. It’s all you can do, it’s all any of us can do.” 

Anima gave him a smile and leaned against Senan, letting the warmth of his body seep into her back. 

“You are a wise man, Niler,” she said.

“It comes with age,” Niler said. “Or with mistakes, either way, one day you will be as wise as me. Hopefully when you are you will have someone like you to sit and listen to your wisdom.”

****

Daianya walked up the steps to the second floor with aching legs. Tyr had not gone easy on her – and she wouldn’t have wanted him to – but there was no denying that the outcome meant sore muscles and utter exhaustion.

Tyr seemed less effected, although still a little tired as he led her to the library and through the archives to a section on war at the back. It was quite a large section, Daianya noticed, and books, scrolls and recording devices were visible in all directions.

“The section on healing is a lot smaller than this,” Daianya said.

“Yeah, but the Asgardian body doesn’t really change,” Tyr said. “So eventually you’ll be able to know everything there is to know, whereas wars can keep happening forever.”

He walked down one of the aisles until he reached the section he was looking for. He grabbed a recording device from the shelf and gave her a grin. 

“Come on, it’s impressive,” he said.

They found a terminal to play the device and he loaded it up.

The footage had been taken from the air; Daianya could just see the wings of the Pegasus flicking in and out of the corner of the frame.

“A Valkyrie took this,” she said.

“Yeah, a lot of the archive footage was taken by Valkyrie,” Tyr said. “They have recording devices on their helmets, and they’re better placed to see what’s going on once the battle starts.”

It was footage from the war with Jotunheim. Asgardian and Jotun warriors clashed violently beneath the rider. Blood and limbs splattered everywhere. Daianya took a deep breath to steady her stomach.

From the side of the frame, a berserker appeared. They were instantly recognisable because they looked as though they were burning with bright red flames. Their skin was glowing like embers from a fire, and their expression was one of pure, unbridled, rage.

They attacked the Jotun warriors with their bare hands. Weapons bounced off their skin without leaving any damage. Blows from hammers and clubs snapped the handle of the weapon when they should have stoved in the berserker’s head. 

“They are truly invincible,” Tyr said in awe. “As long as the berserker rage lasts, nothing can hurt them, nothing can stop them. Oh, look at this part, you can see his strength!”

The berserker grabbed a Jotun by the arm and tore it clean out of the socket. Daianya gasped in shock as the next blow slammed through the Jotun’s armour, into his chest, and out the other side. His heart was in the berserker’s hand as it was pulled back through the hole in his chest.

The Jotun fell to the ground dead.

“How could anyone possibly win a war against us with men like this?” Tyr asked.

“I don’t know,’ Daianya said. “Truly, they can’t be stopped?”

“Not that I know of,” Tyr said, “although if they do have a weakness then they are unlikely to advertise it.”

Daianya turned away from the footage. “I’ve seen enough, I think,” she said. “We have to get to dinner anyway.”

Tyr looked up at her. “You’re not rethinking your training are you?” he asked, looking worried. “I know war is brutal but I thought you understood that.”

“I do understand it,” Daianya said, “and I’m not giving up on my training. If we ever go to war then you will find me in the thick of battle with the rest of the Valkyrie, but I can’t… I can’t _like_ battle. It should be the last resort against unreasonable foes, not something to glorify.”

“I agree,” Tyr said quickly. “A king that takes his realm to war because he has to is strong. A king that takes his realm to war because he wants to is a tyrant.”

Daianya nodded. “I’m glad we agree,” she said, “and I can see your point about the berserkers. He didn’t dodge or duck any blows because he didn’t have to, neither did he need to use a weapon. Training against a berserker is probably pointless.”


	26. Responsibility and Nature

Odin sat on the throne and listened attentively to the petitioner in front of him. The man’s lands had been trampled over by a minor lord during a hunt, destroying approximately half of his crops. He had applied for compensation but the lord had rejected it, so he had applied to the higher courts, who had ruled in the lord’s favour, and now his appeal was in front of the throne of Asgard, and he was trembling slightly with nervousness.

“On what basis do you believe it was Lord Numier who ruined your crops?” Odin asked him.

The men looked at his feet. “He’s the only lord around, your Grace,” he said. “The next closest lord is over three days ride away.”

“Maybe Lord Culnunir was on a long hunt?” Lord Numier interjected.

Odin glared at him, and he looked away.

“Did anyone see the riders go through?” Odin asked.

The man sighed. “No, your Grace,” he said.

“Without evidence there is no way to be certain that it was Lord Numier,” Odin said. “Do you have insurance for your lost crops?”

“They rejected my claim,” the man said. “They said damage by lords aren’t covered because the law says that lords must pay for their own damages.”

Odin frowned slightly. Off to the side, Lord Numier was grinning.

“Hela? What would you suggest?” Odin asked, turning to his daughter.

Hela was sitting in the chair normally occupied by Odin. She was slumped to the side and looked thoroughly bored. At his question she straightened up in her seat.

“Kill the peasant, then he won’t have to eat,” she said.

Odin stared at her in disapproval as the man nervously took a step back. Lord Numier was nodding his approval, which made Odin dislike the man intensely.

“Using that logic we might as well kill Lord Lumier, so that no nobles are close enough to trample the fields,” Odin said.

Lord Lumier stopped nodding.

Hela grinned. “Either way, a solution.”

“But not a good one,” Odin said. “It appears that there is a gap in the law which shouldn’t be there. If this man cannot prove that a lord trampled his fields then his insurance should not be permitted to reject his claim on the basis that one did. Perhaps it was a stray herd of cattle, or a wild horse herd?”

Hela looked confused. “But it wasn’t. The images of the tracks clearly indicate a dozen riders, the horses feet are hooved, the tread heavier than a wild horse. A noble rode through his fields, and it’s almost certainly Lord Lumier because he’s the one that lives closest and everyone knows he’s a giant prick.”

Odin pressed his lips together; the crown must always be neutral.

“Personal opinions aside,” he said. “We have an opportunity to change the law. If the specific lord cannot be identified _for certain_ then the insurance company cannot be allowed to reject the claim.”

Hela shrugged. “So we execute the head of the insurance company?” she asked.

Odin tried hard not to wince. Hela really did seem to struggle with the concept of _not_ killing someone as a solution to her problems.

“We will not be executing anyone in this situation,” Odin said. “Ultimately the crown is responsible for the behaviour of the lords, so we will be compensating this man for his lost crops as identifying the lord with any certainty is impossible, and then we will be looking into changing the law regarding the logic upon which insurance companies can deny claims of this nature.”

Hela made a noise of disgust and slumped back down in her chair.

“Submit your claim details to the secretary,” Odin said, gesturing to where the court secretary sat. “We will pay you for your damages, and for recording devices to be placed around your fields. If this stray lord wants to ride through again then next time he will not be doing so anonymously.”

Odin glanced briefly at Lord Lumier, who looked uncomfortable at the last part of the judgement.

“You may go,” Odin said, dismissing them both.

The man headed towards the secretary with his papers in hand, Lord Lumier almost fled the throne room.

“Hela?” Odin said.

She looked over at him.

“I don’t see what was wrong with executing them both,” she said. “It would stop the squabbling and send a message to others not to bother us with such petty complaints.”

“His complaint was not petty to him,” Odin said. “That was half his livelihood he was concerned about.”

“So? That’s his problem,” Hela said.

“If the farmers have no protection then the food they grow has no protection,” Odin said, “which means that supplies may be stolen by local lords and hoarded, which means that there will be no food in the city.”

Hela shrugged.

“That includes us,” Odin said. “The crown cannot eat if there is no food available.”

“Can’t we just take it from the lords?” Hela asked.

“That would be tyranny,” Odin said. “You were schooled in all of this, Hela, did you not pay any attention at all?”

Hela rolled her eyes. “Why should I have to? How is any of this useful?” she asked.

“If you are going to be Queen one day then you will need to know how to deal with issues such as this when they arise,” Odin said.

“When I am queen you and King Bor will be gone and I shall choose how to rule for myself,” Hela said.

Odin frowned, his temper rising. “You arrogant child, you really think the people of Asgard cannot overthrow their ruler? That you will be a tyrant of ultimate power with no challengers? If you don’t learn to care for your people then you will be Asgard’s _last_ ruler.”

Hela’s face turned ugly. “You have no idea what I am capable of! You really think that these people can stand up to me? I am the Goddess of Death! You can’t kill death!”

Odin shot out of his chair in a fury, Hela sprung from her own. For a second they looked as though they would come to blows, but then Hela backed down, relaxing her shoulders and looking away from her father’s furious gaze.

“You will learn to be a proper queen who cares for her people, or you will be no queen at all,” Odin said dangerously.

Hela looked back at him in shock.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“Do you want to test me?” Odin asked.

Hela turned and stalked away from him, she slammed the door behind her with a crash that echoed throughout the throne room.

Their argument had not gone unnoticed. The next petitioner was standing in the expected spot, watching Odin with fearful eyes. Odin forced himself to calm down and return to the throne. He and Hela would have to have a talk later. She needed to see sense, and she needed to understand that there were consequences for rash actions, and that being the ruler of a realm was a role that was filled with responsibility and careful choices.

However that would have to wait. Those very same responsibilities meant that he had to finish hearing out the court petitioners for the day. Odin gestured for the man to speak, trying to keep his attention on the new case before him. Hela would have to wait. 

****

Anima sat in the library surrounded by scrolls and books on healing and healing spells. It appeared that most healers were relatively minor sorcerers – most powerful magic users did not specialise their skills so narrowly – but what that meant was that most of their healing spells relied on embedding a spell into stones or crystals, which were then used to enact a rapid healing of tissue when required.

The spells were quite old, and to Anima’s eyes some of them were very clunky and wasteful of power. She could already see several places where they could be improved.

She picked up her pen and began to take notes. 

****

Hela stormed into the office of the executioner and slammed the door behind her. She grabbed the nearest paperwork and read the name on the list. 

“Bring Elnir Ragonson to the block,” she said.

“His final appeal is still pending,” the guard said.

Hela screamed in rage and flung her arm out. An axe the size of her entire body slammed into the wall, cracking the stone. The guard backed away from her in fear. 

Hela took a number of deep breaths. She wanted to kill someone, desperately, but she had to pull herself back, she had to stay calm and keep control over herself.

The truth is that her father and the king did not understand. Hela felt the call to kill _all the time_ , oh they talked about feeling a call to battle, and about having to resist their nature, but why? If it was their nature then how could it be wrong?

Hela shifted uncomfortably. She could feel the life of the realm all around her and it was making her more and more uncomfortable.

“When is his appeal going to be heard?” she asked.

“In two days,” the guard said, his back was pressed against the wall as though he was trying to escape through it.

Hela exhaled heavily. “I can wait two days,” she said. “I can do that.”

****

Bor and his guards assembled at the Bifrost site and bid King Grundroth goodbye. Both sides were in a cheerful mood, having come to a tentative agreement regarding what they wanted.

“Send word as soon as the smelting plant is ready to become operational and I will send you the Muspelheim Fire,” Bor said.

“I shall, I expect we will have it ready within two months,” Grundroth said.

“Did you miss me?” Loki said, from behind Bor.

Bor rolled his eyes and turned around. “No,” he said. “I was hoping you’d want to stay longer.”

“And _I_ was hoping that you would fall in love with Grundroth and the two of you would run away together,” Loki said. “Hi Grundroth.”

“It’s King Grundroth now,” Grundroth said.

“I know, but I remember when we were boys playing in the snow,” Loki said.

“We never played,” Grundroth said. “We were too busy fighting.”

“Fighting Asgardians,” Loki said.

“Yes. Fighting Asgardians, but we have been at peace for four and a half thousand years, I don’t think it’s worth mentioning at this point,” Grundroth said.

Loki shrugged. “So… if we were boys at the same time… and that was during the war… then that means you are how old?”

“Does it matter?” Grundroth asked.

“No, no, not at all, there is absolutely no way that your age matters to anyone here at all in any way,” Loki said.

“Safe travels, King Grundroth,” Bor said. “We will be going.”

King Grundroth raised his hand in farewell and stepped back. Bor raised Gungnir and called out. “Gatekeeper! Now!”

The Bifrost light shone down and a second later the Asgardian party were flying through the galaxy on their way to Asgard.

Loki spun like a dancer in the wormhole, throwing his arms out and spinning around with careless abandon. Bor watched him closely, hoping that he would miscalculate his position and fall out of the sides.

Bor’s wish was not to be granted. All of the Asgardian party arrived safely at the Bifrost mechanism back on Asgard.

“Why did you want to point out Grundroth’s age?” Bor asked as soon as they landed.

Loki shrugged. “Don’t you want to know who you are selling your granddaughter to? He’s as old as me, and I’m as old as dirt and twice as filthy.”

Bor grunted and began walking down the rainbow bridge towards the city. No doubt horses were on their way but he didn’t want to wait.

“He’s younger than Hailstrum was,” he said.

“Not difficult, Hailstrum was a grown man in the war, he would have popped off to the Frozen Lands soon anyway,” Loki said, skipping along beside him in order to keep up. “Grundroth is your age, a little bit older in fact, he’ll be dead in a thousand years or so. Do you really want to send your sweet, flower-loving granddaughter to lie in his arms? Besides, how would they even… you know.”

Bor sped up his walk to a firm march. He did not bother to reply.

“I’m just saying,” Loki added.

“Just say something else,” Bor snapped. “I’m sick of hearing from you. Other Jotun managed all kinds of… differences, Nal will be fine, and do keep in mind that I haven’t promised her to him yet, anything could happen in the next fourteen years. If you are so worried about what she’ll face you can always go with her and keep her safe, and stay on Jotunheim forever instead of getting in my way every time I turn around!”

Loki skipped around him with ease. “But why would I go anywhere else when I have a castle to maintain?” he asked.

Bor grunted, mollified by the sudden reminder that Loki almost certainly would be leaving forever within the next century. “Go away, Trickster, I am in a good mood from my negotiations and I don’t want you to ruin it.” 

Loki did a cartwheel as his response, coming to his feet again just as the horses arrived.

Bor swung up and began riding down the bridge, leaving the trickster far behind him.


	27. Death for Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All,
> 
> For those of you who know me, and especially for those that don't, I tend to write in detail in regards to _anything_ that is happening in the story. This includes violence and sex, and sometimes sexual violence. This is your warning for the chapter ahead. Hela tortures someone using both sex and violence. If you don't want to read about it then please skip over her section in the middle. I will take no offence, extreme detail is not for everyone.

**Thirteen years until the Convergence**

Loki woke and stretched with a number of exaggerated moans of contentment. The lady in his bed made a muffled noise of her own and snuggled down further. The man on the other side of him stirred and opened his eyes.

“Morning,” Loki said, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the shoulder. “Shall I send out for breakfast?”

The man nodded sleepily and started drifting back off to sleep. Loki wriggled out from the middle of them and climbed over the covers to reach the door. He pressed on the panel by the door and contacted the kitchen to let them know that there would be three for breakfast that morning.

Last night had been fun. A lot of his nights were fun. Loki was rather good at talking people into coming back to his bed. Now, if only he could remember their names…

By the time breakfast arrived he had remembered and was able to greet them both warmly with hot tea and the smell of fresh, hot bread.

“My darlings, how do you feel?” he asked, perching on the edge of the bed and sipping from his cup.

The woman, Nayla, kept the covers pulled up in a display of morning modesty. The man, Lorat, was looking around for his clothes.

“Shall I fetch you some robes?” Loki asked.

“Yes please,” Nayla said.

“Yes please,” Lorat echoed.

Loki rose from the bed and walked, stark naked, across the room and opened the nearest wardrobe. It was filled with dressing gowns, all new, all soft and fluffy, in a variety of sizes.

“Let’s see… a small one for the delightful Nayla, and a large one for Lorat, the mighty stallion.”

Lorat blushed like a sunset as Loki returned to them and handed them the robes. He didn’t bother grabbing one for himself. He didn’t see the need, personally, but he knew other people liked to wear clothes during daylight hours.

They sat at his table and he gestured for them to help themselves to the bread, bacon, eggs and muffins.

“You have a letter,” Nayla said, pointing to the note lying on its own little plate on one of the trays.

Loki picked it up and opened it.

##### Loki, 

#####  I am reasonably confident that the Death Flower whose seeds you brought to me two years ago is going to flower today. I have been monitoring its progress and I believe it is most likely going to open this afternoon. I intend to witness the event, and you are welcome to join me if you want to. 

#####  Nal

Loki grinned and put the note down. Of course he wanted to see the deadly flower bloom. Who _wouldn’t_ want to spend the afternoon waiting for a flower to open and potentially fill the area with deadly pollen?

“I hope you two have plans today, because I am spoken for,” he said. “But I’m sure we will all meet again at the next feast.”

Nayla and Lorat exchanged a look which made Loki grin.

“Of course, if you two want to go off and form a little twosome then don’t you worry about me,” he added.

Loki sat back and took a gulp of his tea. He was _such_ a good matchmaker.

****

Hela stood by the executioner’s block and breathed in a deep, cleansing breath. There were three executions today. One man and a woman who had been caught selling their underage daughter for sex, and a third man who had been in the process of, uh, initiating the sale when they had been arrested.

Hela watched with delighted eyes as they were marched out of the dungeons and into the bright morning sunlight.

“You three are going to make me so happy,” she said as sweetly as she ever could be. “Who wants to go first?”

The three of them stood there in a line, not looking up from their feet.

“That one,” Hela said, gesturing to the man who had been raping the girl.

The guards dragged him over to the block and forced his head down onto it.

“Hmm… no, I don’t think so,” Hela said. “Arse up.”

They pulled him over further until his torso was on one side of the block and his legs on the other. Hela circled him slowly.

“My father told me that you were cock-deep inside the child when the guards found you,” Hela said. “He was disgusted with you, and was so unhappy about the pain you caused the child.”

She circled him again. He was panting from fear.

“Do you think she was as scared of you as you are of me?” Hela asked.

The only response was more gasps. 

“I don’t think you deserve an axe to your neck,” Hela said. “I think you deserve a sword up your arse.”

The man jerked in place, trying to rise, but the guards held him down firmly.

Hela summoned a sword half her own height and stood in front of him, waiting.

One of the guards grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up violently so that he could see the sword she held. His struggles grew more frantic and a third guard had to join the first two in holding him down.

Hela walked slowly around behind him, taking her time, savouring her moment.

She raised the sword and aimed the point right between his cheeks, letting the blade rest on the fabric of his pants. Then she looked up at the other two to make sure that they were watching closely.

She thrust the sword about three inches in, making the man scream in pain. He next thrust made it five inches, and the next seven. Hela played the sword in and out of his body, giving a little grunt of effort with every movement, simulating the sound of pleasure as the man beneath her screamed in pain.

Her attention remained on the other two. The woman began to sob in fear and the man tried to run, only to be shoved and pinned to the ground. 

Hela increased her speed, ignoring the sounds of pain and the steady spread of blood that began to soak the man’s pants. There was a stench of shit permeating through the air and she knew she had punctured through his bowels into his intestines. His sobs and cries were like music, his pain was like a hit of the sweetest of drugs.

The feel of him dying was ecstasy. Hela could feel his life slipping away as he bled inside. Her thrusts increased to a punishing pace, the sword slammed in further and further, slicing into his belly, his liver, his stomach. 

The man’s screams tapered off into tiny gasps of pain as his muscles began to weaken and go limp. Hela shoved the sword in one final time, as hard as she could. The tip of the sword poked out of his neck, just below his Adam’s apple.

Hela let go of the sword and straightened up. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was hard. There was a definitely wet feeling between her legs, and she idly wondered whether any of the guards were vicious enough to sate her after they were done.

“Next,” she said in a rough voice.

Both of the remaining two were brought forward. The man had pissed himself, the woman was almost mindless with fear. Hela savoured the sight.

You created a child just to destroy her,” Hela said. She shrugged carelessly. “Honestly, you wouldn’t be the first to have a child for your own gain, nobles do it all the time but they’re rich so who cares? You have been sentenced to die and that, oooh, that is my job. But how should I do it?”

The woman fainted. The man wrenched and gagged from terror.

Hela smiled benevolently.

“I know! You united to create the child, surely you must therefore unite in death?”

She turned to the guards.

“Take his pants off and put a rope around his neck and tighten it. Lift her skirts and hold her legs open.”

The man struggled as they did as they were told, but he could not escape.

“Peculiar thing about the male body,” Hela said. “When it is strangled, and the blood cannot reach the brain properly, the penis fills instead. Can you feel it happening?”

The man couldn’t answer; his face was starting to turn purple as the guard tightened the rope around his neck. Hela noted with interest that the guard was grinning as he pulled, and watching the man’s suffering with great interest.

“Stuff him up her cunt,” Hela said as soon as the man looked hard enough.

She struggled of course, but two guards held her legs and a third her body as her husband was guided into her to the sounds of laughter.

Hela gasped a little as he was thrust inside, almost as if she wanted to feel it herself.

“Tie them together,” she said, clenching her muscles a little in response to her own arousal.

The guards bound them tightly, releasing the rope around the man’s neck so that he could breathe. Hela felt the life flow back into his body and sneered at the sensation. It didn’t matter, they would be dying soon enough.

Bound so tightly that they could not escape one another, the two of them whimpered as they were dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The man lay beneath the woman, who tried to pull at the ropes and knots but could not loosen them.

Hela summoned two knives. “I have a proposition for you,” she said, “freedom, for a good show.”

The guards turned to look at her in surprise. They knew Hela did not have the authority to free anyone, but none of them corrected her in front of the prisoners.

“You each take a knife,” Hela said, holding out the hilts, “and whoever lives can go free.”

There was a moment in which they both looked at the knives uncertainly, but then both reached out and grabbed at them. The man tried to get both of them but Hela was too fast and made sure the second one ended up in the woman’s hand.

Then all that was left was to stand back and watch as the two of them stabbed and slashed at each other, trapped together and unable to dodge or duck the incoming blows from the other one. Beside Hela, the guard who had taken such pleasure in strangling the man was breathing almost as hard as she was. They glanced at one another and Hela licked her lips. 

He grinned and turned back to the entertainment, one hand kept drifting towards his crotch, which was starting to bulge.

The man managed to slash across the woman’s throat, and she began to bleed out quickly, coating him in her blood as it spurted out. Within seconds her body grew limp and her arm fell to her side. The knife slipped free and landed on the cobblestones with a light clatter.

The man began to cut wildly at the ropes. The guards went to stop him but Hela raised her hand. 

“No. He can go,” she said.

They looked at her in confusion but she just grinned. She could feel what they could not. The woman had stabbed her husband in the stomach. Adrenalin had kept him fighting but the wound was fatal. He was already dying.

He managed to cut himself free and shoved the body of his wife off him. Then he rolled to the side and staggered to his feet, holding the knife out in front of him defensively even as he doubled over in pain from his wounds.

Hela gestured towards the gate.

“Go on then,” she said.

He staggered towards the gate, each step leaking blood on the ground. Hela and the guards stood back and chuckled in delight as he fell to his knees, then to his side. He lay on the ground holding his stomach, moaning in pain as his wound bled freely.

Hela sauntered over and stood over him. 

“Do you want your sentence to be carried out?” she asked.

His face creased in agony, the man nodded desperately. Hela looked up at her guards and shrugged in an exaggerated manner. “He _wants_ to die! And just as I promised him his freedom!”

They laughed in delight as she summoned an axe.

“As you wish,” she said, swinging the axe down.

She left the other guards to clean up the mess, and beckoned her chosen favourite to accompany her into the executioner’s office.

He followed willingly.

“Name?” Hela asked him.

“Grabthor,” he said.

“Are you hard, Grabthor? Do you get excited from watching my executions?” Hela asked.

He grinned. “I don’t think I’m the only one,” he said boldly.

Hela grinned. “But the real question is: can you satisfy me?”

He yanked his pants open and revealed his cock. “Don’t need to strangle me,” he said, “unless you want to.”

Hela began to unfasten her own pants and pulled them down as fast as she could. Grabthor slammed her against the wall and thrust up inside of her with all of his considerable strength. Hela let out a cry of pleasure and scratched her fingers around his neck, clawing at the top of his armour. Grabthor responded by setting a face, brutal, pace, forcing her bare arse to rub roughly against the stone wall behind her. Hela reached down and grabbed his buttocks and squeezed tightly, encouraging him to continue.

They were still going at it when the other guards came in, having finished cleaning up the bodies and washing away the blood. Hela looked over Grabthor’s shoulder at their watching stares. She summoned a throwing knife and tossed it at them, making them duck, but her throw went wide because Grabthor’s thrusts were making her whole body shake.

The guards left the room, except for one who smiled a predatory smile and picked up the knife from the floor. Hela watched with growing excitement as he stalked silently across the room until he stood directly behind Grabthor. Hela fumbled at the straps of Grabthor’s armour, twisting the clasps free and pulling it off, exposing his back.

With his movements more free, Grabthor immediately changed from harsh, rapid thrusting to harder, single thrusts, pausing for a second each time he was all the way inside of her.

The other guard tilted his head questioningly, asking permission.

Hela waited. She was almost there. Grabthor made one final hard thrust and Hela nodded over his shoulder. The guard stabbed Grabthor through the back, thrusting the blade up the hilt and hitting his heart. Grabthor let out a cry of shock and pain as, pinned to the wall, Hela orgasmed hard. 

She felt the life leave his body, felt him die inside of her. She’d never felt such bliss before. 

Grabthor fell to the ground between her and the guard, who gave her naked pussy a good, and hungry, look.

“When’s my turn?” he asked.

Hela looked down at the body of Grabthor.

“Right now,” she said.

“I’m Nalock,” the guard said, stepping forward and pulling at his pants.

“I don’t care,” Hela answered.

****

Nal was waiting in the death garden when Loki arrived. She was sitting on a blanket and had a camera and her notebook sitting next to her.

“No wine?” Loki asked, walking up.

“Some of the plants in this garden release a pollen that will kill you if you if you consume it,” Nal said. “I wouldn’t recommend drinking anything unless it came from a container with a lid.”

“We could drink straight out of the bottle,” Loki said, “you know, like the common folk do.”

Nal just shook her head at him. “You can have wine later. The flower has been slowly opening for the last half hour; it’s almost ready to show the centre.”

Loki stood at the edge of the blanket and peered at the flower carefully. “Do you think it will be completely black like the leaves and stem?” he asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Nal said, “but I would guess not, if the black leaves are camouflage, then it will need something to attract prey once it flowers.”

There was the sound of footsteps approaching. They looked at one another in confusion.

“Did you invite someone else?” Loki asked.

“No, did you?” Nal asked.

“No.”

To their surprise, Hela came walking, or rather, sauntering, from flower bed to flower bed, admiring – or at least looking at – the plants. There was blood on her front, but Nal and Loki both knew it wasn’t going to be hers. She looked about as happy as they’d ever seen her.

“What are you doing here?” Loki asked her when she got close enough.

“This is the only garden that has any merit at all,” Hela said. “It’s simply, delightful.”

She reached out towards a nearby flower as if to stroke its petals.

“Don’t touch that,” Nal said.

“You can’t kill death,” Hela replied confidently.

“That may be so, but that particular flower kills by slowly eating away at the flesh until your entire body becomes soup,” Nal said. “Which I imagine would hurt the entire time it was happening, so… your choice.”

Hela pulled her hand away from the flower with a sneer. “And how does this one kill?” she asked, gesturing to the nearly opened flower. “It’s called a death flower, so I assume it is potent.”

“According to my readings touching the plant will cause the poison to enter your veins via your skin and travel up through the circulatory system until all of your blood turns solid,” Nal said. “The flower, on the other hand, is harmless to touch, but if dried out and boiled into a tea it will cause you agonising stomach pains ending in death as your digestive system melts away and pours out of your body via your mouth and anus.”

Hela grinned. “Interesting,” she said. “That’s all you need to do? Boil it?”

“Dry it out first otherwise it won’t cause the full effect,” Nal said absently.

“Of course no one will be picking or boiling anything from this garden ever, isn’t that right?” Loki said.

Hela looked at him and sneered. “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little poison?” she asked.

“Should I be? In this wonderful safe realm of ours?” Loki asked.

Hela rolled her eyes and turned back to the plant. “Will it bloom soon?” she asked.

Nal gestured at the flower. “It’s already opening,” she said. “Another few minutes and we will be able to see it for the first time.”

Hela nodded. “Will it stay open long?” she asked.

“Why all the questions?” Loki asked her.

“Maybe I just want to know something for its own sake?” Hela countered.

“I doubt it,” Loki said. 

“It’s about death,” Nal said. “Hela likes death.”

Hela gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “Finally, someone understands,” she said. “And of course that someone would have to be Nal.”

Nal frowned at her. “I was trying to be on your side,” she said.

“I don’t need anyone on my side,” Hela sneered, “especially not a Jotun who likes _gardening_. What kind of broken thought process exists in your head for you to be made of ice and like _gardening_. You should be killing everything that you touch like the monster that you are.”

Nal scowled and looked away from her. “You are a terrible person,” she said. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you even once in your life to be kind?”

Hela looked disgusted at the thought. “Death is not _kind_ ” she spat.

“Why not?” Nal asked. “You could be the doorway to a peaceful end. You could help those who are scared to cross the barrier and let go of the physical world. Death isn’t always violent or cruel. Death can be a welcome relief.”

“Only to the weak,” Hela said. “And what would you know about it, anyway? You aren’t a _god_ , you don’t understand the way Yggdrasil speaks to me.”

“Are you sure it’s Yggdrasil who’s doing the talking in there?” Loki asked. “Because the sound of a person’s thoughts can often be mistaken for the will of Yggdrasil, and as far as I can see Yggdrasil doesn’t actually talk to us at all. It’s far too big and mighty to bother with us. It’d be like my arsehole trying to have a chat with my brain.”

“Your brain is _in_ your arsehole,” Hela said.

Loki shrugged. “I didn’t say it’d have to shout,” he said. 

“I can see that you don’t want me here, _Uncle_.”

“How’d you guess?”

Hela sneered at him. “Watch yourself, or one day you will find yourself on the executioners block, and then I shall have the immense pleasure of chopping your head off.”

“If I ever managed to piss Bor off enough to be beheaded, then you are welcome to take whatever pleasure you like,” Loki said.

Hela turned and stalked away.

Loki sat down on the grass next to Nal. “You don’t normally defend her,” he said, “and I don’t believe for a second that she has an interest in gardening.”

“Me either, but she might have an interest in _this particular garden_ , and if she does then we should encourage her. It might help her find another way of channelling her nature,” Nal said.

“That’s a very kind and optimistic way of looking at it,” Loki said, “especially because she really doesn’t like you.”

“I don’t think she likes anyone. I think she only just tolerates some people because they are gods; she sets a great store by the power of the gods,” Nal said. “But I understand about feeling the pull of your nature. Everything about me draws me towards the cold, and yet here I am, surrounded by sunlight and flowers.”

“Your heart is warm,” Loki said. “It’s always been warm.”

Nal just gave him a small, almost sad, smile before turning her attention to the flower. “It looks like it has red in the centre,” she said.

Loki shifted to get a closer look. “So you feel pulled towards the cold?” he asked.

“Always,” Nal said. “It would be so easy to freeze everyone out. It would be so easy to turn my whole world into ice.”

“But you choose not to,” Loki said.

“If I did, then how would the flowers grow?” Nal asked him.

****

That night, Hela left her room and made her way through the palace corridors and out into the death garden. It truly was the only place filled with life that she could actually stand. She wandered down the pathways, ducking carefully out of the way of the tendrils that reached out as if to grab her, and possibly would.

She reached the death flower and examined it closely. It was black as the night, with bright red stamins in the centre which glowed softly in the darkness like the lure that it was. Hela reached out and plucked the flower with her bare hands and put it in into a container with an evil smile.

She headed back to her room, slinking past the night-servants as they went about their business. It would be so easy to strike one of them, leaving their bodies for hours before they would be found, but Hela restrained herself. She had one very particular victim in mind. 

She reached her rooms and set a pot of water to boil. Once it was bubbling, she dropped the flower in and watched as the water began to turn black.

She’d have to drop it in his wine. Difficult, but not impossible, there were feasts almost every night after all, and he did so love to drink while he boasted.

Hela let the water bubble until there was only a vial’s worth left.

Loki of Asgard was going to regret every mocking comment he’d ever made.


	28. Unwanted Gods

Daianya entered the training yard and gave Tyr a welcoming grin as she started to do her warm-ups. They had been training together for a year now and at the last session she had managed to defeat him.

Her victory had made him act sulky and cold towards her for the rest of the session, just as Solveig had predicted would happen. He had returned though, which was a good sign.

Daianya ran through her warm-ups and tried not to think about her earlier training session with the senior trainees of the Valkyrie.

They hated her. Well, a large percentage of them did. Like the bulk of the army, the main force of the Valkyrie was made up of commoners, and as such they had little in common with a princess, and did not trust that her only desire was to be their equal.

They also hated the fact that she had arrived only two years ago, an utter amateur in all aspects of fighting, and that now she was easily one of the best among them. They muttered to one another outside of Solveig’s hearing but just inside Daianya’s, about how she was being favoured because of her title, about how being Aesir was the only reason she improved so quickly. It had nothing to do with the rapid aging, which had slowed down considerably but not yet come to a halt.

The healers were now theorising that both Daianya and Nal would grow old alongside Anima, but that once she died their natural age would reassert itself. 

Nal had pointed out that their natural age would be that of a three-year-olds in term of development, to which the healers had condescendingly explained that they meant natural _adult_ age, because de-aging below that would require the reabsorption of tissue and loss of brain function. Nal had politely informed them that they were talking out of their arses, and had been forced to make an apology by Odin shortly thereafter.

In any case, Daianya continued to both learn quickly and to develop quickly. Her arm muscles were already noticeably larger than her sisters’, and her waist was smaller, having shed all superfluous fat. Gunhild had started putting her up against harder and harder challenges in the senior training class, including multiple other trainees versus just her, on a regular basis.

Tyr walked over to her. “I apologise for two days ago,” he said. “You surprised me.”

Daianya inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Don’t worry about it, if anything, take credit for being such a good opponent that I really had to work so hard to beat you.”

He shrugged awkwardly, clearly still unhappy about the outcome of their last bout, but didn’t complain any further as they chose their weapons. 

“I know,” he said just as they began squaring each other up. “You and I can switch the hands our weapons are in. Good fighters should be able to fight with both hands, after all.”

Daianya thought about it. “How about we keep going as we are for now, I’ve learnt some knew techniques against stronger opponents that I want to try out.”

Tyr straightened up and lowered his sword. “And what about me? I’m the one who has been wasting my time for the last year. I can’t improve against a weaker opponent.”

Daianay shrugged. “Maybe I’m not so weak anymore,” she said. “I’ve been improving in strength very quickly.”

“You’re still a girl,” Tyr said. “Even an Aesir girl isn’t as strong as an Asgardian warrior.”

“Try me,” Daianya said.

Tyr put his sword away. “Fine,” he said. “If you want a strength test, then fine. Wrestle me instead of using swords.”

Daianya sighed and put her sword away. Solveig had predicted that eventually Tyr would become difficult. The only way he would start to learn is if he stuck it out once he began to lose, and Daianya wasn’t sure what the best way to keep him engaged was.

She and he stood a few feet apart and rested their hands on one another’s shoulders. It was quite difficult for Daianya to do; Tyr was a foot taller than her and his arms were several inches longer.

“Ready?” Tyr asked.

Daianya nodded.

“Go.”

Tyr immediately used his height to his advantage, pushing her backwards and down at the same time. Daianya braced her feet in the dirt and tried to imagine that she was a rock whose footings went deep into the ground.

Tyr pushed harder, starting to strain. Daianya focussed only on remaining immobile. She had no chance of pushing him backwards, at least, not yet.

Tyr strained and pushed and gritted his teeth as he tried to make her move. Daianya felt as though her arms were going to give way from the effort. Just as she thought she had nothing left to hold them up with, Tyr tried adding a twist to his pushing, hoping, no doubt, to throw her off balance.

Daianya responded by allowing the twist to happen and moving with it. Tyr immediately overreached himself and lost the steadiness of his feet. Daianya pushed him along in the same direction he was already moving, causing him to stumble and topple over, landing in the dirt.

“Well done,” called a voice from the sidelines.

It was King Bor and General Hymir, Tyr’s own father.

“Well done,” Bor said again, looking pleased. “I heard that you beat him in a swordfight two days ago, so we came down to watch.”

Daianya immediately bowed. Her arms felt like lead.

“And you, my boy, have you learnt anything from this?” Hymir asked Tyr.

Tyr climbed to his feet, looking sulky.

“Yes Sir,” he said, but in a tone so bitter it was obvious that he did not think whatever he had learnt had been worth learning.

“You need to work on your strategy,” Hymir said. “That’s why I wanted you to go up against the Aesir, so that you could learn to use more than just your strength. Princess Daianya appears to have learnt that lesson, now it is your turn.”

“Yes Sir,” Tyr said bitterly.

“He’ll make a fine general one day if he keeps this up,” Bor said, making Tyr look a little brighter. “Can you imagine it? Your boy as the First General of the Army and my Granddaughter as leader of the Valkyrie? The nine realms will never be safer than they’ve ever been.”

The two of them walked off together and Tyr turned back to Daianya. “So, sword fighting?” he said in a slightly ashamed tone.

Daianya shook out both her arms. “In a minute? I was about to break under the strain, a few more seconds and you would have made me crumple.”

Tyr looked vaguely more cheerful at that and went to grab a drink.

Daianya shook her arms again and sighed heavily. She shouldn’t have told him how close he came to winning. Chances are he was going to ask to wrestle before every session from now on in order to improve his chances at winning the sword fighting.

She was going to have to do more strength training, she could feel it.

****

Nal walked through the death garden with a careful step. She wanted to track the progress of the death flower from opening to withering, assuming it withered of course. Her camera was slung over her neck and her notebook was in her pocket.

She made her way around the creeping vines, noting to herself that they required pruning again – a dangerous exercise that was usually done by prisoners sentenced to death, just in case something went wrong – and walked carefully along the pathway to the death flower’s garden bed.

The flower was missing.

Nal frowned and carefully looked underneath the plant’s leaves to see if she could spot it on the ground. It wasn’t unheard of for plants to bloom for only a day, or even a few hours in some rare cases, but the flower had shown no signs of it when she’d left the garden the day before.

She couldn’t see it on the ground, and she hadn’t brought her protective gloves so she couldn’t lift the lower leaves to have a closer look. No one would be stupid enough to pick the flower, everyone knew the death garden was not a misleading name. Most of the plants inside of it were so deadly that, without specialised knowledge and equipment, anyone who did try to harvest anything was far more likely to become a victim.

Nal took some pictures of the stem, and then she examined it as closely as she dared, trying to see if the end had withered at all. The blackness of the whole thing made it difficult to tell.

Frowning in confusion, Nal headed back to the shed outside of the garden gates to fetch her protective equipment.

****

Daianya headed into the barracks after her training session with Tyr. He had won every fight again, and her arms felt like lead weights. Her legs were starting to ache too and all she wanted was a hot bath and a muscle rub before the feast that night.

She was prevented from reaching her goal by one of the senior trainees, a girl named Tarah.

“Can I help you?” Daianya asked her.

“No, not at all,” Tarah said, smiling in a way that made Daianya suspicious, “finishing up for the day?”

“Yes,” Daianya said.

“Got another feast to go to?” Tarah asked.

“The King holds them all the time,” Daianya said, walking past her and heading into the baths.

Tarah didn’t follow her, for which she was grateful. Daianya knew that the girls saw her as some kind of privileged princess, advanced into the senior classes at a pace too fast for her to have actually learnt anything. You’d think they would have stopped thinking that once Daianya managed to defeat them in the training yard, but if anything it just made them double down on their hatred.

She stripped off her clothes and sank into one of the baths. There were six large tubs in the Valkyrie barracks, always kept hot and steaming on a rotating cycle. The bath nearest the door was the only one that was empty at the moment, and the faint smell of cleaning soap drifted from the base.

Daianya grabbed a cloth and rubbed the sweat from her arms. She was going to have to wash her hair again, a side effect of being so active. With a hard sigh she pushed herself under the water, pulling her hair down after her in handful after handful, as it tried to remain floating on the surface.

She became faintly aware of someone entering the bathroom. Daianya had always been difficult to sneak up on, even when she wasn’t actively looking for souls there was a part of her that always knew where they were.

The one person became five as she resurfaced and took a breath.

They were all in the doorway, not coming in or out. Daianya focussed her mind and called on the power of Yggdrasil slightly. In her head, the souls became distinct and identifiable.

Tarah, Milnia, Aeriada, Ompile and Hildra, otherwise known as the five most outspoken of the senior trainees when it came to wanted Daianya gone.

She pushed off from the edge of the bath and turned around to face them as they crept into the room.

Clearly they had not been expecting her to know they were there. They were caught in the act of trying to fan quietly out in order to flank the bath she was in.

Daianya resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead climbed out of the bath, trying not to show how much extra effort it took to lift her wet hair free from the water, especially with her muscles aching as they were.

“Ladies,” she greeted, reaching for a towel.

Milnia got there first and kicked them away from her. Daianya took a deep breath.

“Problem?” she asked, knowing there was and not looking forward to the solution.

“The Valkyrie are not a private army,” Milnia said.

“I know,” Daianya said, “are you really so blind as to not see how hard I train for it?”

“It doesn’t matter what you do,” Tarah said from her other side. “King Bor already plans to make you the general after General Solveig. I overheard him say as much to her.”

Daianya shook her head. “King Bor does not appoint the head of the Valkyrie, Commander Gunhild will be the next General,” she said.

“He’s the king, are you really so stupid that you think anything about you being here is fair?” Milnia said.

Daianya could sense the others behind her. They had circled around until she was surrounded. She privately cursed herself for being tired and distracted enough to have allowed that to happen.

 _Just letting you know, goats are still an option,_ Anima thought in her head. _I’ve got it damn near perfect, just give me three minutes notice and you’ll be able to lead them out to pasture._

 _I need to deal with this on my own._ Daianya thought back.

“By the time General Solveig retires King Bor may have passed the crown onto Father,” Daianya said. “And I know for a fact that he won’t pressure the Valkyrie to change the way they work.” 

Tarah just sniggered as Milnia rolled her eyes.

“You just don’t get it, do you? Tarah said. “You are not welcome here. You will never be a Valkyrie because we will never accept you.”

Daianya ducked. Even as she moved she wasn’t completely certain why she was doing so, or where the threat was coming from, but something inside her told her that someone was swinging at her head.

Aeriada’s fist swung over her from behind, brushing against her hair on its way past. Daianya spun while crouched and extended her leg, sweeping Aeriada’s feet out from under her and causing her to fall backwards into the bath behind her with a splash.

_Ompile and Hildra were about to charge her._

Daianya leaped forwards, somersaulting and springing up to her feet as the two girls collided where she had been.

_Tarah had a cudgel._

Daianya only had a second to register her shock at the blatant use of a weapon outside of the training ring before she was shifting to the left to avoid Tarah’s downward swing.

Somehow, Daianya could see, no, _feel_ where each of the girls was planning to be and what they were planning to do when they got there.

It was their souls. A split second before they moved, their souls gave away what they had decided to do. All of their movements were being telegraphed to Daianya as easily as if they were shouting them out to her.

She ducked and weaved and danced her way through the multitude of limbs and attempted strikes. The girls grew more desperate with each failure to hit, and their actions became even easier to read as they started to give in to instinct in their mounting anger.

But even so, it was still five against one, and Daianya was exhausted from her earlier training. She did her best to dodge and weave her way to the door, where she could make a run for it.

She almost made it, but Milnia jumped in her way.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

Daianya took a deep breath. All the girls were Asgardian; if she had to she could mow them down and deal with the fallout later.

Tarah took another swing with the cudgel, aiming for her head. Daianya dodged and felt it bounce off her hair on the side of her scalp.

She rose, arms up and ready to charge straight through whoever was in her way.

“Baaahhh”

Daianya looked around her, the tension slowly going out of her shoulders as she took in the sight of five rather distressed looking goats, one of which was soaking wet.

 _Annnndddd that is three minutes!_ Anima thought cheerfully in her mind.

Daianya reached over and grabbed a towel.

 _I’m going to have to explain this to General Solveig, you know,_ she thought.

****

Hela walked into the feast that night with a smile on her lips and murder in her heart. She took her usual seat and greeted Odin almost cheerfully.

“You are in a good mood,” he commented.

“I have reason to be,” Hela said. “His Majesty sentenced five people to death today. They have appeals, of course, but I have already prepared the paperwork and organised the overnight watches on their cells.”

“I’m glad to see you being so efficient,” Odin said. “No chance the appeals will succeed?”

Hela shrugged. “They were found guilty of murder, robbed and then stabbed to death a shop owner who had done nothing but work late to finish his own accounts. _Poor_ man.”

Odin held her gaze for just a second longer than normal, but then Hela rarely displayed any sympathy for anyone. Perhaps hoping this was the start of her turning over a new leaf, he gave her a nod of approval and picked up his wine glass.

“Where is Uncle Loki?” Hela asked, looking around. “He’s normally at the feasts by now.”

“He’s over in the corner, talking to Lord Ellinir,” Odin said, pointing. “Did you want to talk to him?”

Hela smiled. “I was hoping he’d tell one of his battle stories, you know, the ones where he dropped a three tonne stone on the Titan’s heads, or that time on Midgard when he summoned Jörmungandr from the waves and commanded him to eat the main battleship, something exciting, I haven’t heard any of his stories in ages.”

Odin chuckled lightly. “His Majesty prefers not to hear them, although he does like the Jörmungandr one.

“I wish I could have been there to see it,” Hela said. “But I was on the other side of Midgard at the time. I do remember the ocean level dropping three metres; that must have been when Jörmungandr leapt up into the sky.”

“I’ll ask him to tell it later,” Odin said.

****

Nal entered the hall and took her seat. Her expression was worried.

“What’s the matter?” Anima asked her.

“The death flower’s flower is missing,” Nal said. “I searched the ground around it thoroughly and it doesn’t look like it’s fallen off or withered, I think it was picked.”

“Did you check the security logs to see who has been in the garden?” Anima asked.

“The guards are still running them back,” Nal said. “But the security measures should have triggered if anyone unauthorised entered the garden.”

“Unless they got in via unconventional means,” Anima said. “Like a concealment spell?”

“The security measures take into account all the common spells of concealment, and quite a few uncommon ones,” Nal said. “It was one of the conditions Father set when he allowed me to build the garden in the first place.”

Anima frowned. “It’s a palace garden, it has to be someone who lives or works here, that or a master thief skilled enough to get past the palace security as well as the garden’s.”

“I’m just worried that someone is planning to use what they took,” Nal said. “I’ve been researching the poison of the flower. It could take down a god, easily.”

“You think someone wants to kill – ” Anima started to say and then broke off.

 _Do you think someone wants to kill the King?_ she asked with her thoughts.

 _I don’t know, I’m still hoping that it fell off on its own and got blown into another garden bed,_ Nal thought back. _By the way, where is Daianya?_

 _Explaining to General Solveig why the Valkyrie are the proud owners of five angry goats,_ Anima thought back.

“Do I want to know?” Nal asked.

Anima shrugged. “They say General Solveig is fair, but also extremely harsh to those who won’t follow her directives. I’m pretty sure those girls were never going to make it to the end of their training anyway if they thought ganging up on a fellow Valkyrie was a good idea.”

“Anima, Goddess of Magic, Nal, Goddess of… Flowers? How are you both?”

They looked up to see Loki in front of them, holding a wine glass and looking cheerful.

“We’re well, Uncle Loki,” Anima said. “I turned five people into goats today.”

He toasted her with a grin. “Did they deserve it?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to hear it, although if you’d said no I wouldn’t have _disapproved_ , just so you know.”

“Your approval is, of course, highly sought after,” Anima said with a smile.

“Uncle Loki! Will you tell us the story of when you summoned Jörmungandr to help you on Midgard against the Titans?” Hela said, appearing beside him. “I haven’t heard that one in ages.”

Loki glanced over to where King Bor was sitting. The king rolled his eyes.

“I’d love to!” Loki declared, setting his glass down on the table and using magic to create a platform in the air for him to stand on. 

“It all took place during a pitched battle on Midgard, in a place called ‘Tønsberg’. The buildings were rubble, the people had fled, and I stood alone against the Titan advanced force as it bore down upon me,” Loki began enthusiastically.

Nal rested her cheek on one hand as Anima leaned forward, utterly entranced.

“There were eleven Titans coming towards me, each with a blaster and a sword as tall as I am! Above my head, the main battle ship had arrived, and this little force was intended to set up beacons to guide it down so that it might release thousands of Titans into the realm. Well, I couldn’t let that happen, now could I? Bu what to do? What can one little god do against eleven _massive_ Titans? (Seriously, they were huge, I mean, muscles for days, and those chins? Mmm – oh right, the story).”

Loki crouched on his platform, causing the room to unconsciously lean in closer to him as he continued.

“They chased me across the land until my back was to the see. There was nowhere to go but off the cliff to the ocean below. The leader of the Titans called out to me to surrender so that he could give me a merciful death. I gracefully declined, in that I called him an eggplant which had attained sentience, and he threatened me most creatively in response. He then told me that when the main force arrived he would be able to take his time killing me, as there would be plenty of them around to kill everybody else.”

Anima was enraptured, Nal was entranced, and even Bor was paying attention. Unseen by all, Hela shifted slightly in her place by the table, adjacent to Loki’s glass.

“Ah, I said. So if the main force doesn’t land then you will not have time to kill me? Well in that case… and I called out to Jörmungandr, my darling child beneath the waves of Midgard, to come forth and help his dear father with a little problem I was having. And of course Jörmungandr came to my aid; he’s a good son like that. The earth began to tremble. The waves began to fall. The Titan who had so threatened me stumbled back in horror as my darling boy rose from the depths. Truly, the Titan had never seen such a sight before. Giant serpents are often spoken of, but rarely seen, and my Jörmungandr is the most impressive of all. And he rose from the sea, and rose, and rose, and rose, until he towered over them all. I swear at this point at least one of them wet their pants. And then I pointed to the ship above and asked my darling boy if he would be so good as to eat the whole thing.”

Loki leapt from his platform to the ground, pulling his audience along for the ride as he posed dramatically by the table.

“Jörmungandr sized up the ship carefully, and then he struck! He _flowed_ from the sea up into the sky! He was so fast it was almost impossible to follow him, for no sooner than he began he had the ship in his mouth! He crunched down on it like it was no more than a grape. Explosions shot out from either side, pieces of ship came crashing to the earth! And I, of course, dealt with the Titans before me, many of whom were distracted at the time so I was able to cut at least three throats before they remembered I was there. Good times.”

And with that, Loki picked up his glass and downed the rest of his wine.

Off to the side, Hela grinned and began to applaud. Her claps were lost in those of the rest of the crowd and the smile never left her face as she returned to her seat.


	29. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All,
> 
> Once again there is a violent scene involving Hela, sex and death told in great detail. It is about three quarters of the way down and starts with her waking up in a good mood, if you want to skip it.
> 
> However because the scene does cover a plot point that you should know about, I will summarise what happened in extremely vague detail at the end of the chapter, so that anyone who wants to skip it does not miss out.

Loki picked up another wine glass and bounced through the crowd of people, nodding and smiling at those who had listened to his tale. He had just reached the table of Lady Hildra, a woman he had been hoping to get to know a little more intimately in the very near future, when the first stomach pain hit.

“Loki? Are you alright?” Hildra asked him, spotting his flinch.

“Oh yes, I’m always, ah, actually, ah, I might have to take my leave,” Loki said as the pain worsened. “I think I might be a bit unwell.”

“Oh dear, do you need a healer?” Hildra asked.

Loki winced as another pain hit. They were growing more intense with each one.

“No,” he gasped. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I will be leaving now. For I think I may have just shat myself.”

Parting words given, he concentrated hard and teleported himself away from the feast and back to his rooms.

He made it half a dozen steps before he fell to his knees and vomited, splattering wine and blood on the floor beneath him.

“Oh fuck me,” he muttered and crawled the last few steps to the bathroom. His pants were soaked with blood and shit.

“Oh fuck me,” he muttered again as another cramp hit.

“Oh fuck…”

****

Hela had watched with delighted eyes as Loki had begun to react to the poison. Him teleporting away gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand she would have liked to watch; on the other, him disappearing meant that he was less likely to be found and helped. 

Unless he had teleported to the healer’s rooms. 

Hela downed the last of her drink and stepped quietly back towards the door. She had to go and check, otherwise she would never be satisfied.

She slipped away from the feast and into the quiet corridors of the palace as, on the opposite side of the room, Nal was approached by one of the guards.

“Your Grace, I finished the review of the security cameras,” he said. “The only person to enter the garden after the flower bloomed yesterday but before you discovered it missing today was Princess Hela.”

Nal bit her lip and scanned the room. Hela was nowhere to be seen.

“Thank you,” she said. “Prepare a report that I can give to my Father and the King. I will inform them of your findings now.”

The guard bowed and left her alone. Nal spotted Odin in the crowd, talking to a Lady she didn’t recognise, one of the minor Lord’s daughters, probably. Nal hurried over to him.

“Father, please, may I have a word with you?” she asked, trying to seem calm while still making it clear that her request was too immediate to be delayed.

Thankfully, Odin was an astute man.

“Of course, if you would excuse me, Lady Loria? Thank you,” he said and took Nal’s arm to guide her to a more discrete part of the room. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I think Hela picked the death flower from the death garden,” Nal said, “the black one which bloomed yesterday. The flower is gone, she was the only one who entered the garden at all in the time it disappeared, and, and I did kind of tell her how to make a poison out of it.”

Odin blinked at her in surprise.

“I didn’t mean to, she asked a few questions and I just answered them, I didn’t think she would actually pay attention, but now she’s gone form the feast and may have a very powerful poison in her possession, and I don’t know what she would use it for,” Nal said.

Odin’s eyes tracked up to where Bor sat at the high table.

“She wouldn’t,” Nal said uncertainly.

“No. I don’t think so,” Odin said. “Hela has no reason to do something like that. She’s calmed down a lot since she got the executioners job, and Father was the one who gave it to her. I’ll find her and ask whether she has taken it and what she has done with it.”

Nal nodded, unable to shake her worry as Odin walked away.

****

Daianya stepped into the feast hall and tried to look unobtrusive. The sheer volume and colour of her hair made that very difficult.

“What did General Solveig say?” Anima asked her as soon as she got to the high table.

“She respectfully requests that you undo your spell,” Daianya said.

“Really?”

“She said ‘get your sister to put them back before I have to put in an order for bloody goat feed’.”

Anima chuckled. “I should leave them like that for a few weeks, I’ll pretend I can’t figure out how to undo it.”

“No, I’d prefer it if you fixed them right away,” Daianya said. “General Solveig also expressed a great deal of interest in using your spell, or others like it, on the battlefield. Possibly enchant a crystal which can be dropped into the thick of the enemy lines and turn a large group of them into animals so that they can’t fight in battle.”

Anima looked thoughtful. “It can be done,” she said. “How do you feel about goldfish?”

****

Odin rarely used his magic in dishonourable ways, but now and again, when the matter was urgent, he bent his own rules a little. 

Right now he was tracking Hela through the palace. For the most part he believed in respecting peoples’ privacy, but if Nal was correct then finding Hela was far more important.

She was in the corridor outside the healers’ rooms, heading away from them back towards her rooms in the east wing of the palace.

Odin broke into a jog to catch up to her, and caught her just as she was entering her room.

“Hela!” he called out.

She paused with her hand on the door and then let it drop.

“Father,” she greeted, turning to face him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I saw that you had left the feast, are you well?” Odin asked.

“Quite well,” Hela said. “But tired, I’m going to bed.”

“In a moment,” Odin said. “I need to ask you something.”

Hela waited for him to speak.

“Did you pick the death flower from Nal’s garden?” Odin asked her.

“Yes,” Hela said.

“Did you turn it into a poison?” Odin asked.

“Oh yes,” Hela said.

“Why?” Odin asked.

“To see if I could, and to prepare for the Titan, when he finally returns,” Hela said calmly. “I thought to put it on the edge of my blades so that even if I cannot defeat him outright in combat he will still fall down dead shortly afterwards.”

Odin searched her face as she spoke, looking for signs of dishonesty, but he couldn’t tell if she was lying or not.

“Where is the poison you made?” he asked.

“Destroyed,” Hela said. “The theory worked, the test subject, a wicked man much loathed by the King, reacted perfectly, and so the next bloom I shall be ready to create my stockpile for the Titan.”

Odin frowned. “Test subject?” he asked. “One of the prisoners sent for execution?”

Hela smiled. “It is up to me how they are to be executed,” she said. “I prefer the axe, but this was a special case.”

Odin got the impression that she had spoken truthfully, while at the same time he was sure she was being dishonest about something. He had no idea what though.

“Very well,” he said. “But with the next bloom I expect you to tell me. It’s illegal to brew poisons inside the palace walls, in fact it’s illegal to brew them outside of the approved mages’ towers or factories.”

Hela nodded. “I understand, Father, I just got caught up in the excitement of it all. I will tell you when I intend to do it again.”

Odin went to turn away, but paused. “Can I have the vial?” he asked.

“What?”

“The empty vial that the poison was in, can I have it?”

Hela smiled again and pushed open her door. “Of course, Father, let me get it for you.”

She walked over to her workbench, upon which sat a large number of different knives and several scrolls depicting different ways to kill people, and reached for something on the shelf.

For a second her body obscured Odin’s vision, but he didn’t notice, and then she turned back to him with an empty vial in hand.

“Here you are. Be very careful, there are still traces of the poison inside,” Hela said.

Odin took and vial. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Hela gave him a small bow.

Odin left the room and headed back to the feast hall with the vial in his pocket. He hoped that Hela was telling the truth, and he hated that he didn’t trust her enough to be sure based on her word alone.

The feast was in full swing when Odin returned. He spotted Anima chatting to Bestla at the high table and headed over to her.

“Anima, may I speak with you?” he asked.

She gave her grandmother a nod and followed him to the side of the room.

“This vial contains traces of a very potent poison,” Odin said. “I need to know if it came from the death flower in Nal’s garden.”

Anima took the vial carefully. “There’s a spell that can show if they are a match,” she said. “It takes about an hour to cast.”

“Do you mind starting right away?” Odin asked. “It’s very important.”

Anima nodded. “I’ll head back to my rooms and get started then.”

Odin smiled at her. “I’ll have the kitchen send you up some dessert for when you are done,” he said.

Anima left the feast hall. When she was halfway to the door, Nal silently joined her. Daianya waited only a few minutes more before also disappearing.

****

“Father doesn’t trust Hela,” Nal said as Anima began dropping things in her casting pot.

“No one trusts Hela,” Daianya said. “Unless it’s to kill someone, then you can trust her to always go for the head.”

“I wonder who she used the poison on?” Nal said. 

“I’d guess one of the prisoners,” Daianya said, “otherwise Father wouldn’t have been so calm.”

“I wouldn’t have described him as calm,” Anima said. “He seemed quite worried to me.”

“I mean that he didn’t lock her up,” Daianya said. “He must believe that whoever she poisoned was supposed to die anyway.”

Anima added a few litres of water to the pot and began wiggling her fingers vaguely at the bottom. After four minutes a fire began burning beneath the pot.

“You could have put it on the fireplace,” Nal said.

“The heat from the fireplace fluctuates a lot,” Anima said. “This is better for long-term castings.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Nal said. 

“You should, she turned five trainees into goats today,” Daianya said. “They’re spending the night in one of the barns.”

“I can’t imagine the General is particularly happy about that,” Nal said.

“She’s not, but I think she’s more unhappy at their behaviour than the consequences that came of it,” Daianya said. “She had their parents at the meeting. It was hard to explain to them what their daughters had tried to do, especially as they are so close to becoming full Valkyrie.”

“Bullying in the ranks is terrible for moral,” Nal said. “It’s a good thing it’s being brought to life now.”

“I hope that they will learn not to pick on people,” Daianya said. “But they raised a few good points, even if they did it in such a terrible way.”

“Such as?”

“King Bor wants me to head the Valkyrie one day. He said as much to me himself. But the General of the Valkyrie should be chosen on merit, not because she’s a princess,” Daianya said.

“So be the best there is and it won’t be a problem,” Nal said.

Dainaya smiled. “It’s not that easy,” she said.

“I don’t see what not, you work harder than anyone else, you improve faster than anyone else, if anyone deserves to lead the Valkyrie one day it’s going to be you,” Nal said.

“But there will always be those who only see the title,” Daianya argued.

“Kick their arses in the training yard,” Nal suggested. “You should not get the job because of who your grandfather is, but alternately, you should not _miss out_ on the job because of who your grandfather is. Be the best, then all the important people will know that you earned it, and all the bitter people will have to deal, not just with you, but with everyone who supports you as well.”

Daianya smiled at her. “You’re good at motivating people,” she said.

Nal shrugged. “Those girls are all stupid anyway,” she said.

Anima came to sit with them. “It’s all set up, it just needs to brew,” she said. 

“What if it’s not from the death flower?” Daianya asked.

“Then Hela likely still has the poison in her possession _and_ for some reason does not want to admit this to Father,” Anima said.

“Which means she almost certainly has a victim in mind that he would not approve of,” Nal added, “or at least, not tolerate.”

“Who?” Daianya asked. “Who does Hela hate that much?”

“Everyone,” Anima and Nal said together.

“I know one thing for certain though,” Nal said. “She didn’t have time to dry out the flower, so if this is the poison in question then it’s less potent than it could be.”

“Will it still kill?” Anima asked.

“Oh yes, it’ll just take hours instead of minutes,” Nal said.

Anima looked uncomfortable. “I wonder who she tested it on, if she really did give Father the empty vial?” she said.

“Some poor prisoner, probably,” Daianya said. “I mean, presumably they were sentenced to die because they did something really bad, but still, a quick stroke of an axe is far kinder than a slow poison.”

“Slow, agonising poison,” Nal said.

“Is there an antidote?” Daianya asked.

Nal shook her head. “Not one that we know of,” she said.

“I might see if I can make one, assuming that there’s enough of a trace of the poison left in the vial,” Anima said. “So, when does General Solveig want me to undo the spell?”

“Tomorrow, before breakfast,” Daianya said.

Anima groaned theatrically. “ _Before?_ ” she said.

“Yes, before, so that they can get a good talking to before their morning training session begins,” Daianya said.

“I regret my involvement utterly,” Anima said.

Nal rolled her eyes. “You would do just about anything to get more sleep,” she said, “except, I’ve noticed, go to bed early.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Anima said. “If I go to bed too early I lie awake and get nothing done, but if I work into the night and sleep in then I am both productive _and_ rested.”

“You miss the sunrise,” Nal said.

Anima shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of sunsets, isn’t it just like that only in reverse? Besides, your bedroom window faces the morning sun. If I wanted to watch it I’d have to come in and jump in your bed.”

The three girls sat for the next hour, talking and catching up on their lives. About halfway through the spell, a servant arrived with enough dessert for the three of them, and they tucked into cake, tarts and cream.

“Did you even eat any dinner?” Nal asked Daianya.

“No,” Daianya said. “But it’s okay, I can have cake for dinner just this one time.”

“Your hair is looking extremely high and wide tonight,” Anima said.

“I never got to properly clean it in the baths,” Daianya said. “It needs a real wash right down to the roots, but that’s practically a full day operation.”

“Why don’t you cut it?” Nal asked.

Daianya shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but it keeps protecting me in training. Just the other day one of the senior trainees got me with a mace, except the blow was half the strength it should have been by the time my hair was done cushioning it.”

“Difficult choice to make then,” Nal said. “Can you fit a helmet over it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Daianya said. “I’ve never tried.”

“What about that armour King Bor gave you when you came of age?” Anima asked.

“I haven’t had a reason to wear it, and I didn’t want to put it on for training because it makes me stand out,” Daianya said.

“Go and get it right now,” Nal said. “You haven’t pulled it on once in the last two years, that ends now.”

Daianya put down her bowl and went to her room to fetch the armour. She needed the help of the other two to pull it on and do up all the straps, and the helmet, as suspected, did not fit over her hair.

“I can fix this,” Anima said. “I can make your hair go smooth again like I did at our coming of age feast.”

“That’s not going to help me when I’m in getting ready for battle,” Daianya said. 

Anima frowned. “Maybe I can enchant your helmet to make your hair go straight whenever you try and put it on?” she said.

There was a sudden shift in colour from the casting pot.

“Is it done?” Nal asked.

“It is,” Anima said. “It’s a match; the poison in the vial is from the death flower.”

Nal let the tension go out of her shoulders. “I’m glad, that means Hela was telling the truth, and Father can deal with what she did knowing that the poison has already been used. For my part, I’m going to have the security on the death garden increased to only allow myself and those who I personally invite and accompany inside. I don’t like how easy it was for her.”

****

The next morning, Hela woke feeling absolutely wonderful. She smiled a rare, genuine, smile as she rose from her bed and headed to her shower.

Loki of Utgard was finally dead.

Wonderful.

She dressed in her usual skin-tight attire, pausing to admire herself in the mirror for a moment before she headed out to see whether his corpse had been discovered yet.

There was no whispering among the servants, and no one was scurrying around looking scared or scandalised.

No doubt once the body was discovered Odin would be back with more questions, she had misled him quite a bit last night, but Hela wasn’t worried about punishment. King Bor hated Loki, so she was unlikely to face to many harsh consequences.

She made her way down to the executioner’s office and greeted her current favourite with a smile.

“Did someone die last night?” Nalock asked her.

He was ruthless, rough and murderous in almost the same way she was. Someone like Ragnar was nothing compared to the tortures he gleefully carried out at her command. He wasn’t afraid to dispose of a rival either, although it was getting hard to cover up the number of guards under her command who kept being murdered, so he had stopped for now to let potential suspicions die down.

But he had a list. Hela had seen it. Any time she so much as looked at another guard with interest he noted them down for an accident.

“I hope so,” Hela said, answering his question.

He opened the box he had in front of him and pulled out a large, bulbous stick. He pushed a button and about fifty very sharp, very angled, spikes shot out in every direction.

“I got this to use on someone,” he said. “A prisoner, if you want to, but mostly Gebbnir, I don’t like the way you keep licking your lips when he walks by.”

Hela grinned. “He’s taller than you,” she said.

“He’ll be deader soon,” he promised. “But right now you have to sign all these papers right here. I put them in order and marked them so all you have to do is pick up the pen and sign your name.”

Hela made a noise of disgust. “That’s killed my mood,” she said.

He grinned. “I was planning to eat you out while you worked, if that makes you feel any better.”

Her grin returned and she sauntered to the desk.

“Lock the door,” she said. “I don’t want visitors.”

The other guards already knew what she was like, all of them had witnessed her taking her pleasures after, and sometimes during, an execution. Hela didn’t care about them, but every so often a secretary would come down to deliver messages in the morning when the office was open but the executions themselves were not taking place. The murder of a royal secretary would be harder to hide than the lowest of the guard positions.

Nalock bolted the door and returned to the desk. Hela pulled her pants off and sat down, picking up her pen.

Nalock disappeared under the desk with a grin.

She started to sign the papers, not even reading them, as Nalock got to work. He was rough, the way she liked it, and he used his teeth to worry at her pussy as she began to gasp and rock slightly in place. She signed the papers as quickly as she could; trying to get them all finished so that she could focus fully on what he was doing to her.

The last paper finally came, and Hela threw down the pen and reached beneath the desk with both hands to hold his hair tightly.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she gasped, gritting her teeth and pulling his hair hard. “More.”

He pulled back just slightly and said: “Tilt more.”

She obliged, sliding down further to give him better access. He returned to biting at her, while using his nails to scrape at the inside of her thighs.

Hela put her head back in pleasure. “More,” she commanded.

“As you wish,” he said, pulling back and shoving the bulbous stick he bought straight into her.

He pushed the button and the spikes shot out into her flesh. Hela let out a scream of pain and outrage.

“That’s for my sister, who you murdered in the Argos system,” he spat, coming up from under the desk. “You think I don’t know what happened? You think your first murder went unnoticed? Die you fucking bitch.”

Hela reached down and got her hand around the handle of the stick, which was being coated in her blood. She tried to find the button but her fingers slipped over it.

Nalock grinned at her. “I’m going to stand here and watch you die,” he said. “Just like all those people you killed out there. You like to get off on torture and death? Well now you can die like one of your victims.”

Hela gave up on pressing the button and grabbed the handle instead.

Nalock saw her movement and started laughing. “Die faster, what do I care?” he said.

Hela steeled herself, and ripped the stick right out of her body with another scream.

Nalock laughed again. “I can’t believe you actually did it!” he exclaimed.

Hela dropped the stick on the ground and slowly stood up from her chair. Blood continued to flow down her legs and she began walking shakily towards Nalock.

By the time she’d gone three steps, the blood had stopped flowing, and his laughter began to die.

Hela grinned at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so fast before,” she said. “But you don’t seem to realise something.”

She darted forwards, grabbing him by the throat with one hand and placing the other between his legs before he could react.

“You can’t kill death,” she said.

His scream was abruptly cut off as she summoned a sword from the hand between his legs. It shot up through his body, slicing every major artery and vein on its way through.

Hela let him drop and looked around her in annoyance. She needed to dispose of the body and clean up the blood. Ugh. She hated cleaning.

She reached for the communication device on the wall and dialled the guard room.

“Gebbnir, get in here,” she said.

She looked back down at the body of Nalock.

“I can’t believe he thought that woman in the Argos system was the _first,_ ” she said in disbelief.

****

Odin had received Anima’s report the night before and had been relieved to hear Hela had been telling the truth. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong though. In his mind he played back his conversation with her. What had he said? What had she said? She had definitely said she’d used it on a prisoner? Or had he asked her that and she had simply chosen not to deny it?

He rose from his table, leaving behind his empty breakfast tray, and walked to the door of his rooms, intending to go downstairs to the execution office and talk to Hela again.

He opened the door to find Loki on the other side of it, about to knock.

“Loki! Where did you go last night?” Odin asked.

“Have you ever woken up in a pool of your own shit and vomit?” Loki asked. “Because if not I can’t say I recommend it, it’s not a great time, and the clean up? Ugh. I mean, I’m not asking the maids to do it, that’s a step too far, so it’s a scrubbing brush and some hard soap for some early morning exercise. I earned my breakfast this morning, I can tell you.”

“Are you alright?” Odin asked. “What happened to make you so ill?”

Loki shrugged. “I’ve been ill before, I probably just ate something that wasn’t keen on becoming someone’s dinner and so took their final revenge on me. Where are you heading to?”

“I’m going to talk to Hela,” Odin said. “She made a poison from the death flower and tested it on a prisoner. I need to make sure she understands that she can’t do that sort of thing.”

“A prisoner? Do you know which one?” Loki asked, walking along beside him as he headed towards the stairs.

“No, she didn’t say,” Odin said.

“And the symptoms of such a poisoning? Stomach pains? Sweats? Blood spurting out both ends?” Loki asked.

Odin frowned. “I’m not sure, but that sounds about right,” he said.

“ _Interesting_ ,” Loki said. “Well I’ve walked this far, might as well go with you the rest of the way.”

Odin didn’t object as they went down the stairs and made their way to the executioner’s office.

Hela was in the main room when they arrived. Two of her guards were scrubbing the stone floor of her office.

“Good morning, Hela,” Odin said.

“Morning, sunshine,” Loki said cheerfully.

Hela looked up at him and her expression slowly fell from her usual aloof indifference into confusion and shock.

Loki grinned at her. “I had the worst night. Shat myself _mightily_.”

“Are you determined to tell everyone you see today that you soiled your pants?” Odin asked him.

“Yes,” said Loki.

Odin sighed and looked back at Hela. “I wanted to talk to you about the poison,” he said.

Hela’s eyes flickered rapidly from Odin to Loki and back again. Loki gave her a wide grin.

“There are a number of paralysing agents that can be used on the edge of blades,” Odin said. “The death flower poison is not approved and unlikely to be so. There is no known antidote, which means any accidental nick with the blade on your own skin or that of an ally will have disastrous consequences.”

“I understand, Father, I will not make it again,” Hela said.

“But if you do, make sure to dry the flower out first,” Loki said. “Otherwise it won’t reach full potency.” 

Odin turned and glared at him. Loki shrugged. “What? I’m educating,” he added.

“Is everything going well down here?” Odin asked.

“Yes, father, everything is fine, I even finished all the paperwork early this morning,” Hela said, gesturing to the stack of papers beside her.

“That’s good,” Odin said. “It’s good to see you taking responsibility for all aspects of the role.”

Hela gave him a smile. “I want to do well,” she said. “I want to be the best I can be.”

Odin smiled and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it, hopefully one day soon you can re-join me in the courts.”

“Hopefully,” Hela said brightly.

Odin turned and left. Loki followed him, but turned back at the last second to give Hela a cheerful wave.

“Do you think she’s starting to turn a new leaf?” Odin asked Loki as they made their way upstairs.

“No. Not at all. Not in the slightest,” Loki said. “She’s a monster, that’s why Fenrir loves her so much.”

Odin shot him a look of disapproval.

“What? All my children are monsters, I know what I’m talking about,” Loki said.

“She can do better, if only I can reach her,” Odin said.

“Give it up, Brother, get the throne, change the law, make Nal your heir, retire into a peaceful life,” Loki said. “You’d be happier.”

Odin looked at him suspiciously. “You look extremely well for a man who was sick all night,” he said.

Loki shrugged. “I bounce back fast,” he said. “I’m the God of Bouncing Back Fast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hela's scene:
> 
> She starts having sex with a guard who turns out to be a man who worked his way into the role in order to take revenge on her for killing his sister during the Titan war. His method of killing her involved inflicting severe internal injuries using a weapon which he lodged inside of Hela's body. Hela then made her injuries a million times worse by ripping the weapon he used out of her body along with a great deal of blood. Any normal person would have died in a lot of pain but Hela healed within seconds. She then killed the guard while saying "You can't kill death."


	30. Magic, Solstice and Purpose

Daianya stood outside the fence of the pasture where her assailants had been left for the night. True to form, Anima had struggled to rise early and so it was after breakfast when they finally came down to the fields so that she could complete the spell.

Nal was sitting on the fence, watching the goats as they stood there, all in a line like a military formation.

“Can you change the spell to make them think like animals as well?” she asked. “Otherwise, changing enemies on the battlefield to something small and scurrying might backfire in unexpected ways.”

Anima shrugged. “Mind magic is a lot more difficult, but I’m sure it can be done,” she said.

General Solveig arrived, accompanied by the parents of the girls in the field.

Daianya stood straighter and tried not to look guilty, after all, _they_ had attacked _her_. It was still difficult though, because she knew full well her royal status was likely to affect the way they responded to what had happened.

Sure enough, they all bowed deeply when they arrived, including General Solveig, who normally did not whenever Daianya was in training. But then Daianya remembered that her sisters were also present, and that was probably the reason why the group was showing so much deference.

 _Bullshit,_ Nal thought cheerfully. _You are the one they like._

 _You are the one they think they understand,_ Anima added.

General Solveig rose from her bow and regarded all three of them. “Thank you for agreeing to undo the curse,” she said to Anima.

Anima gave her an awkward grin. “Well I did kind of curse them in the first place,” she said. “But it was justified.”

The crowd behind Solveig may have thought otherwise, but they remained quiet.

“Just give me a few minutes,” Anima said.

“Minutes?” questioned one man, an older Lord with a long white beard and very bushy eyebrows.

“Yes, just a few,” Anima said.

“Transmutation is not difficult,” he said as his wife tried to hush him. “It should be instant.”

Anima shrugged and gestured to the goats. “Go on then, you do it,” she said.

Despite the ever growing pleas from his wife he stepped forwards and waved a hand at the waiting goats, sending a wave of red magic to wash over them.

Nothing happened.

Anima struggled not to start laughing. She could see the magic he used as clear as day, and it was heavy on the power, but light on technique. Perhaps it would lift a spell cast in a similar fashion, but Anima’s spells were complex, and therefore had redundancies built into their very nature.

 _Idiot,_ Nal thought.

He waved a hand again to the same result and then turned to look at her with uncertainty.

“I’ll get started, shall I?” Anima said, stepping forwards again.

She began to cast her spell. From the outside, she looked as though she was just standing still with her arms up. Several people began to shift from foot to foot while they waited.

“Daianya, I have explained to the trainees’ parents what you told me about the incident,” Solveig said. “Naturally they wish to hear about it from their daughters’ perspective, however I have also reviewed the security recordings from outside the barracks and it does show Tarah leaving to fetch her friends shortly after you entered the building.”

Daianya nodded, standing straight and stiff. She had just noticed that one of the women was wearing a Valkyrie uniform. One of the girls came from a legacy family.

Anima lowered her arms with a smile and the five goats morphed back into people. They all looked utterly miserable.

“How did you do that?” the older man asked, staring at Anima. “Where was your magic? I couldn’t see it.”

“Step forwards, all of you,” Solveig said to the five girls.

“How did you cast something with no sign of magic?” the man was insisting behind her.

Solveig turned and glared at him until he noticed her and stuttered into silence. 

_I want to make people stop talking with just a glare like that one day,_ Nal thought.

“According to the report I received, you five attacked a fellow trainee in the baths with the intention of making her quit the Valkyrie, is that correct?” Solveig asked them.

Four of them looked at their feet. Milnia held eye contact but didn’t say anything.

“I asked you all a question,” Solveig said.

“She doesn’t deserve to be a Valkyrie,” Milnia said.

“Milnia! You dare!” snapped the woman in the Valkyrie uniform.

“Why do you think that?” Solveig asked.

Milnia shot a glance at the woman but continued to speak. “King Bor already said he wants her to be the general one day, she’s only here because he wants her to lead us, regardless of whether she’s the best or not! She gets to be a part of Commander Gunhild’s special classes and she has special training sessions around all of ours. She’s coddled!”

Daianya bit the inside of her cheek to keep rom speaking. Her special training was with Tyr, who kicked the crap out of her over and over again, the special classes were because she learnt too quickly for the regular ones. She wasn’t _coddled_.

“I can see that there is a fair amount of misinformation floating about,” Solveig said. “And, having received that information, your five took it upon yourselves to try and bully a fellow trainee out of the Valkyrie. We are a team, ladies. We are an _army_. What we are training for is not a game, war is real, and war will come again. How can I trust you in the ranks if this is how you deal with your problems? How can I expect your fellow Valkyrie to trust that you won’t turn on them because you decided they didn’t deserve something they worked hard for? And don’t look so disbelieving, Daianya has worked hard every day since she joined the Valkyrie to become better and better, and it’s working! She’s faster than you, Tarah, she’s more agile than you, Milnia! _If_ she becomes the General one day it will be because she deserves it, and even if she does not become a General she _will_ be the kind of Valkyrie that you would want by your side in battle, which is more than I can say for the five of you right now!”

“Yeah!” called out a familiar, and young, voice.

“Brunnhilde?” said the Valkyrie woman. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching my sister get turned back into a person from a goat,” Brunnhilde said. “Hi Tarah!”

Tarah scowled and looked at the ground.

“I believe you are supposed to be in classes right now?” Solveig said.

“On the one hand, yes, on the other hand, this is very educational and I shouldn’t miss it,” Brunnhilde said as seriously as she was able.

“Go,” Solveig said.

With an exaggerated sigh, Brunnhilde turned and slumped away.

The Valkyrie woman sighed deeply. “One who can’t stop being jealous of every little thing and the other who can’t stop getting into trouble,” she said.

“Brunnhilde is a fierce fighter and not afraid of anything,” Solveig said. “She’ll be an excellent fighter when she’s grown.”

Their attention turned back to the five girls in the field.

“You will, as punishment for your actions, attend every class Daianya does,” Solveig said. “Including the junior and intermediate classes, and the extra educational classes, and the extra training with Tyr in the evenings.”

One by one their faces changed as the reality of Daianya’s schedule sank in.

Solveig nodded at the group of parents and walked away without another word.

Daianya pulled a face, remembered that she was in front of other people, and quickly straightened her expression again.

Anima did not bother being so polite, and pulled the expression Daianya wanted to make for her.

“That’s rough,” she said. “So many extra hours of work, but then I suppose it’s only fair that you get coddled _exactly_ as much as my sister.”

“How did you cast that spell?” the older man demanded again, now that Solveig was gone.

“Darling, she’s a princess,” reminded his wife.

“Being a princess does not make your magic invisible,” he said.

“No, but it does mean that you should be asking _nicely_ ,” his wife said.

He turned back to Anima as if it had only just occurred to him that she was royalty. “Ah, um, I… I was wondering?”

“Magic is just numbers,” Anima said. “The colour of magic is just excess power leaking off the spell whenever it is cast. If you don’t allow for leaks, then there will be no colour.”

“Oh. Well. I’ve never heard that theory before,” he said.

“I haven’t yet published it,” Anima said.

“Ah. Right.”

“Can we go, Father, please?” Aeriada said, climbing over the field’s fence and falling into her mother’s waiting arms.

“Hold on, this is important,” he said, “I’ve never heard of magic being so well controlled before.”

“I think you should see to your daughter,” Nal said from her seat on the fence.

He almost waved a hand dismissively in her direction, but caught himself at the last minute.

“Yes,” he said, under Nal’s stare, “that’s for the best.”

He and his family scurried away. Nal stared them down until they were out of earshot.

 _I’m going to practice staring people down, it’s kind of fun,_ she thought.

“Tarah, we are going to have a long talk, let’s go,” the Valkyrie woman said, giving Daianya a quick bow and leading her daughter away.

The others also dispersed, leaving the three princesses alone by the field.

“I have to get to training,” Daianya said.

“I have plans on Midgard,” Anima added.

Nal shrugged. “I’m going to read a book.”

And the three of them headed off to their various destinations.

****

Anima headed back to her rooms, pulled on her warmest winter coat and picked up the tesseract. Senan had invited her to witness one of the religious ceremonies of his people and she was excited to attend. She used the tesseract to teleport to the kitchens and began to raid the sweets and breads cupboard.

The kitchen hands were used to her randomly popping in by now, often wearing clothing that was wrong for the season, and one of the cooks quietly picked up a tray of fresh scones and put it down on the table nearby.

“Dates on the left and chocolate chips on the right,” she said with a wink. Anima gave her a grin of thanks and gathered up half a dozen of each.

Her bag bulging with food, Anima pulled out the tesseract again and concentrated. There was a rush of power and she was on Midgard in the clearing.

It was cold and snowing, and the little hut was almost invisible underneath the white. A column of smoke was drifting out of the top. Anima made her way over to it and called out a hello.

“Come in!” Senan called back.

She pushed aside the skins hanging over the entrance and ducked down to enter the hut. It was about a quarter of the size of her bedroom, and there was very little room to move around.

Senan was sitting on his bed, sewing something with careful hands. Anima sat down next to him with a smile.

“How are you?” she asked, as he looked over at her.

“Well, very well, I’m just fixing up my coat. I tore it on a branch yesterday as I was heading back from the stream.”

Anima watched him move the bone-needle back and forth through the material in his hands.

“I’ve never had to sew anything before,” she said. “do you just go back and forth?”

“If you fold over the cloth then you can make the thread disappear when you look at it from the front,” Senan said, showing her.

“I hope you finish soon, otherwise we’ll miss the ceremony,” said Naler, interrupting them. “It begins at sunrise, and we’ll have to walk all night to reach the god’s home.”

“There are gods there?” Anima asked curiously.

“Ay, there lives the great Dagda, with his wife, Boann, the Goddess of our river.”

Anima nodded seriously; she did not believe in the gods of Midgard the way Niler did. For one thing there were so many of them, for another, historical records on Asgard indicated that at least some of them had been aliens, and were now long dead.

But Niler believed deeply in the gods of his home, the local ones at least, and such belief brought him comfort. Anima knew he was likely to reach the spirit world regardless of whether his gods were real or not, so she let it go.

Senan finished the stitching on his coat and pulled it on. Then the three of them rose and headed out into the dark and cold.

Senan led the way through the forest and toward the banks of the river. They would be following it inland for hours until they reached what Niler, Senan and the other people of the village believed was the home of the gods. Anima walked alongside them in silence. There was something about the darkness of the night and the determination of the two men beside her that made what they were doing feel almost magical.

It only took them about fifteen minutes to reach the banks of the river; Senan turned left and began walking along the banks. After a few minutes, Anima became aware of the presence of torches on the other side.

“Who are they?” she whispered.

“The villagers,” he said softly, “we’re all walking down tonight.”

Senan didn’t light any torches just yet; the night sky was clear and the moon was almost full. The three of them could see well enough to walk down the pathway that had been trodden into the dirt by travellers on their side of the river.

After an hour and a half, the river narrowed considerably, and the other group became aware of them on the far side of the river bank.

“You shouldn’t be here!” called out the voice of a man, breaking the solemn silence in a way that made Anima cringe.

Senan ignored them and kept walking, although the terrain was getting harder to navigate without light.

“Light the torch, my boy, they know we’re here now, there’s no sense walking in the dark,” Niler said. 

Senan knelt down and pulled a torch out of his pack. He got out some stones and began to bang them together over the torch end. Sparks flew from the stones but the torch did not catch.

“May I?” Anima asked quietly. She held her hand out and concentrated. A moment later the torch caught flame.

Senan picked it up and gave her a smile in the flickering light.

“It’s handy to have a fairy princess with you,” he said.

The torch lasted them an hour as they walked, and Senan used the last of the flames to light the next one. The other group was slowly left behind, Niler was a slow walker but they had almost three dozen people with them, including children, and so it was harder for them to maintain a steady pace.

It took five hours, and four torches, to reach a point in the river where Senan said they would have to cross.

It was hard to see the width of the river in the darkness, but Senan said it was about forty metres. He pulled a rope out of his bag and tied it firmly around himself.

“I’ll go first, and once I’m across you two can use the rope to help guide you. Be careful, the current can be very strong.”

“It’s snowing,” Anima said. “The water is going to be freezing.”

“I’ve got my other clothes in my bag; I’ll carry it on my head as I go across to keep it dry,” Senan said. 

“Wait,” Anima said. “Come and take my hand.”

She pulled out the tesseract and held it up. In the darkness, the vivid blue glow looked even more magical.

She held out her hand. “Trust me,” she said.

Senan put his hand in hers at once; Niler took a little longer to reach out and hold on.

Once she felt both of them grip, Anima concentrated and activated the tesseract. They vanished from one side of the river and reappeared on the other.

“You couldn’t have done that back at the hut?” Niler asked her.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” Anima said, “other than this side of the river.”

Senan took the lead again and they walked away from the river and through some trees. They were smaller than the ones in the forest, as though the whole area was younger.

They reached the end of the trees and Anima gasped at the sight before her.

It was an enormous mound in the earth, built by mortal hands and lined with large rocks. There were carvings on every side, and an entranceway surrounded by torches.

Some people had already arrived, and were gathered all around. What looked like an altar stone at the front had been piled high with offerings.

“Wish I had somethin’ to spare,” Senan said. “I used to bring a bit of sheep. Not much, just a hoof or somethin’, but still.”

Anima reached into her bag and pulled out one of the scones. “I’ve got some food you can offer,” she said.

He looked at the scone in her hand and then took it thoughtfully. “How do you make such soft bread?” he asked.

Anima shrugged. “You’d have to ask the cooks.”

“Thank you, fairy princess,” Senan said and headed towards the altar with the scone in hand.

“Did you want to offer something?” Anima asked Niler.

“I’ve got something already, to thank them for sending me that boy to take care of me, and for you too, for the food you bring,” he said and shuffled forwards, reaching into his bag as he did so.

Despite the hostilities at the river, neither of them were bothered by the others as they placed their offerings on the altar and returned to where she stood.

“And now we wait for sunrise,” Senan said.

“What happens at sunrise?” Anima asked.

“The sun’s rays will hit the opening above the doorway and send its warmth all the way into the heart of the mound, triggering the return of summer,” Senan said.

Anima nodded, trying to keep her expression serious. She knew that Midgard revolved around its sun, and that nothing would stop the summer from arriving exactly on time as always, but this world, however much she loved visiting, wasn’t truly hers. She was too mortal for Asgard, but too Asgardian for Midgard.

They settled themselves well back from the rest of the people and Anima shared the rest of her food.

“I don’t know what type of fruit is in this, but I love it,” Senan said.

“Dates,” Anima told him.

“I love dates,” he declared.

The people from Senan’s village arrived and headed straight for the altar. A woman about Senan’s age scanned the crowd until she saw him.

“That’s me sister,” Senan said. “She’s getting married in a month.”

“She looks nice,” Anima said, as Senan’s sister suddenly spotted her sitting next to him.

Her eyes widened and she grabbed the shoulder of an older man and tugged on his coat.

“And that’s me Father,” Senan added as the man turned around looked at them. He stared hard at Anima before turning away dismissively.

Senan’s sister looked as though she wanted to come over and talk to him, but a look from their father made her stop.

“She leaves me bits of vegetable and some bread in the forest now and again,” Senan said.

“I’m sorry you were banished,” Anima said. “Is there any way I can help, at all?”

“No, Ani darlin’, you’d only get yourself into trouble,” he said. “Besides, I kind of like being my own master, I work just as hard as I always did but I get to keep all the spoils of my labour.”

Niler reached into his bag and pulled out a water bag. “I’ve been saving this,” he said. “Got given it by a girl who stole it from the head-man’s private store a few months ago, wanted her fortune told in exchange.”

“What is it?” Senan asked.

“Honey-drink, pity it’s not warm, but it’s a good drink all the same. Careful though, it’ll make you all dizzy,” Niler warned, taking a large mouthful and passing it over.

Senan offered it to Anima first and she took a drink. 

Alcohol, as she suspected. It was strong too and made her gasp and cough a little as she handed the bag over to Senan.

“It’s got a good flavour,” she said.

They ate and drank and watched the crowd as stories were told, songs were sung, and dances danced, all in honour of the sun’s return.

Then slowly the sky began to lighten, and the mood became serious. Everyone waited with their breath held as the sun slowly rose above the horizon.

Senan reached out and took Anima’s hand, and together they watched as the light of the sun shone down and hit the entrance to the mound. There was a shout of triumph from the religious leaders who had been waiting inside, and the crowd let out a loud roar.

“It’s gone inside the darkness, the summer will be back!” Senan announced in delight.

He picked up Anima and spun her around in a circle in celebration. She laughed at his enthusiasm; his joy was infectious.

He put her back down on the ground, leaned forwards, and kissed her.

Anima froze in shock. Senan pulled back hurriedly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’, am I a frog?” he gabbled.

“Why would you be a frog?” Anima asked, still reeling from the kiss.

“Because if you kiss a fairy princess you turn into a frog,” Senan said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anima shook her head. “No, you don’t,” she said.

“Sorry, there’s so much I don’t know,” Senan said. “Uh, can I kiss you again?”

Anima looked away, over towards the mound. “I don’t know,” she said. “My grandfather, the king, he might not like it if I kissed you.”

“Oh, I forgot you were a real princess for a moment there. That’s okay, I’d be skinned alive if I were to try kissing one of King Ailbe’s daughters,” he said, but his tone was sad.

“I’d love to see inside the mound,” Anima said, changing the topic.

“That’s forbidden to anyone who’s not dedicated their lives to the gods,” Senan said.

Anima didn’t say anything, but in her pocket, her fingers caressed the tesseract thoughtfully.

****

Daianya walked down the corridors to the cool rooms of Queen Bestla to visit her grandmother. She rarely had time to visit these days and she missed her grandmother’s stories.

The air was just cold enough to make her huff her breath out to try and see if it was visible, the way she had always done when she was younger.

“Who is that at my door?” Bestla called out.

Daianya smiled and walked further inside.

“I’ve come to see you,” she said.

“Daianya my dear, it’s been a long time since you were down here, have they finally let you have a rest?” Bestla asked, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I completed the intermediate obstacle course in record time, and with no hits,” Daianya said. “So the Commander said I could go for the afternoon.”

Bestla smiled and gestured to the pool. “Sit by the water; I’ll fetch us some cakes.”

Daianya sat down and trailed her fingers in the water, watching the ripples form and break against the edge.

“Are you doing well in your training? Bestla asked, “and your education? Is it also going well?”

“I’m getting close to top marks most of the time,” Daianya said. “Sometimes I forget minor details about things and have to revise them, which is annoying, but for the most part my teachers are happy with me.”

“That reminds me of a story,” Bestla said.

Daianya took a cake and nibbled it.

“Eat the whole thing, dear, you need the fuel,” Bestla said. “My, your arms are getting big, you’ll need to have your dresses altered soon or you won’t be able to wear them.”

Daianya just grinned at her and flexed her right arm to show off the building muscle. “I like them,” she said, “but you’re right, my dresses are getting tighter in the sleeves. Normally I’d send Anima to go and model for me, but if it’s the arms I need fixing then I’ll have to do it myself.”

“Did I ever tell you the story of the Atalanta? The woman warrior who was so fast that no man could catch her? She swore that she would only marry a man who could beat her in a footrace.”

“Did anyone manage it?” Daianya asked.

“Not without cheating,” Bestla said, “and who wants to marry a cheater? But it was her own fault. He threw apples at her and she got distracted and slowed down.”

“He threw… apples… at her?” Daianya said in disbelief.

“Yes, now, in fairness they were golden, which makes a difference because golden apples are hardly common, and must have grown from Yggdrasil itself. How he got them I will never know, they say Aphrodite gave then to him – that sounds like her – anyway, he threw three apples in total and because she slowed down she lost the race and had to marry him.”

“Was she happy?” Daianya asked.

“Probably not. Don’t slow down for a man, dear, that is the lesson you must remember. He’s only worthy of you if he can keep up with you, or doesn’t mind losing to you,” Bestla said.

Daianya looked at her in confusion. “Thank you for the advice, but I’m not currently being pursued by a man,” she said.

“No? Then why does Hymir keep talking to the King about his strong son Tyr?” Bestla asked her.

“Tyr?! He’s a boy! He won’t be of age for another two hundred years,” Daianya said.

“That’s not such a long time,” Bestla said, “although it may seem that way to you. Hymir wants his bloodline to join the royal family, and he wants it to be through you. His ambitions are being imparted on his son at every opportunity. All I’m saying is, you have a choice. You may not see it because you’ve been raised to do as you are commanded, but you _do_ have a choice. Don’t slow down for the will of a man, no matter who that man is, and what other man he tried to tie you to.”

Daianya nodded in understanding. “I’ll keep that in mind, Grandmother, I promise,” she said.

“Good. Now eat another cake, you’ll need more fuel for tomorrow,” Bestla said.

“Grandmother,” Daianya asked. “Do you have any stories about the gods?”

“A few, why? Do you have questions your father can’t answer?”

“More like he doesn’t have time for,” Daianya said. “I have to make an appointment if I want to talk to him for more than a few minutes.”

Bestla frowned. “He works too hard,” she said. “But if he didn’t then Asgard would be half the place it is now.”

“I was attacked by a group of trainees yesterday,” Daianya said. “I’m fine, I held them off and Anima turned them into goats, but during the fight I felt something I’ve never felt before. I could see what they were going to do before they did it. I could _read_ their intentions because their souls were acting out what they were about to do a fraction of a second before they did it.”

“Yggdrasil bestows great blessings upon the gods,” Bestla said. “Unless you feel that it is a danger to you, I would advise embracing your gifts.”

“I don’t think it’s a danger,” Daianya said. “But I do feel… I feel like… I feel as though I was fighting the wrong fight.”

“I don’t understand,” Bestla said.

“Neither do I, that’s the problem. But the whole time it was happening I felt as though I was fighting the wrong people, as if I should be using this gift against someone else,” Daianya said.

Bestla looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“They say every god exists for a reason, my dear, some to keep us safe, some to bring us joy.”

“What about me?” Daianya asked. “Why do you think I exist?”

“I think you are here to save our souls,” Bestla said. “Time will tell me if I am right, and time will bring you closer to the one with whom you must do battle.”


	31. Fairy Kisses

Hela stalked into the feast that night in a foul mood; everyone who saw her ducked back hurriedly out of her way. She scanned the crowd until she saw Loki and headed over to him, rage emanating from her body like a malevolent aura.

“Uncle Loki,” she greeted, in a tone that was better suited towards the words ‘horrible scum’.

“Hela! Sweetheart! Have you had a good day in the executioner’s office?” he said brightly.

“You said you were unwell last night,” Hela said, ignoring his question. “You look very well now.”

“I _am_ very well now,” Loki said. “I’ve never felt better in my life. Thank you so much for your concern.”

Hela forced a smile, “I’m glad to hear it,” she said through gritted teeth.

Loki gave Hela a quick smile. “I even feel well enough to tell another story, if you want to hear it?” he offered.

Hela turned away from him. “Not tonight,” she said. “The last one was not entertaining.”

“I’d be hurt, but I’m not prepared to put in the effort,” Loki said. “Nal! My Princess! You look lovely tonight.”

Hela watched him walk away with narrowed eyes. He had drunk the poison, she was sure of it, but the poison had no antidote. 

It had to be the potency. Her haste had ruined a perfectly good murder, and now there were no more flowers to pick.

****

Odin sat up at the high table as the feast began and immediately noticed the missing chair.

“Where is Anima?” he asked.

Nal and Daianya exchanged glances before turning back to him and shrugging. 

“No idea,” Nal said.

“She’s been out all day,” Daianya said.

Odin frowned. “Can you ask her?” he asked.

They both paused for a second.

“She says she’s working on a spell,” Nal said. “She’s fine.”

Odin nodded and leaned back in his chair. Everyone could skip a feast now and again, and he understood about magical research. He had lost himself in scrolls and books more than a few times growing up.

“I’ll have dinner sent up to her,” he said, gesturing to a servant to come closer.

Nal looked down at her plate. Daianya took a drink with what Odin felt was undue haste.

“She is working in her room, isn’t she?” he asked.

There was another pause.

“She says she’s in the library,” Nal said. “But if the servant leaves her dinner in her room she’ll head back there soon.”

Odin nodded and relayed his command to the servant, who nodded and vanished.

He waited for a few minutes for the two girls to become distracted by the food and by Loki, who was making bets that he could balance on the edge of a plate with only his largest toe.

Odin declined the bet, he knew Loki and his acrobatic tricks too well to risk any money, and instead – with a slight twinge of guilt – concentrated his magic on finding his youngest daughter.

She was not in the library. She was not in her room. She wasn’t anywhere in the palace at all.

Odin expanded his search, letting his mind reach out across Asgard, finding every man, woman and child in every city and village.

After a few minutes he broke and spell with a shake of his head.

Anima wasn’t on Asgard.

****

There was a flash of dark blue cloud and Anima, Senan and Niler appeared by the hut. Niler went inside to lie down immediately. Staying up all night was hard on him.

Senan turned to face Anima. “So, when do you think you’ll be back?” he asked her.

“In a few days? I’ll let you know,” Anima said.

“Me sister was all excited to see you, they all think I’m a liar, tellin’ them about the fairy princess. I don’t mind if the rest of them don’t believe me, but it bothered me that _she_ didn’t. Now she knows you’re real she can stop lookin’ at me like I’m soft in the head whenever she catches me in the forest,” he said.

“Happy to help,” Anima said. “You should go and get some rest now, at least a few hours.”

“Do fairy princesses sleep?” Senan asked her.

“Fairy princesses love to sleep,” Anima said, “at least this one does.”

“Sorry I kissed you,” Senan said. “Well, actually I’m not a bit sorry because it was really nice and I’d quite like to do it again, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Anima really wanted to lean in and kiss him right there. She _had_ liked it; her first kiss, and it had been fun and joyous and sweet which made it perfect in her eyes, but she held back.

“I have to go,” she said softly, “but I will come back.”

Senan nodded awkwardly. “I see,” he said.

Anima pulled out the tesseract and disappeared in front of his eyes.

“I hope I don’t wake up as a frog,” Senan said to himself as he turned to go into the hut.

****

Anima reappeared back where they had been, just outside of the mound. The crowd was slowly dispersing back to their villages. She stood in the trees and watched them for a while.

 _Father wants to know where you are,_ Nal thought into her head.

 _Tell him I’m working on a new spell,_ Anima thought back, watching the entranceway to the mound. 

Some of the men had hauled a large stone across the front to keep it secure. They had just finished and were gathering up the rope.

Anima concentrated and vanished, reappearing inside the now empty mound. She held out a hand and tried to concentrate on creating a light.

 _Father’s going to send dinner to your room,_ Daianya thought.

Anima let her hand drop. 

_Tell him I’m in the library but the servant can leave me dinner and I’ll be back shortly,_ she thought. 

Message sent, she tried again to create a light so that she could see what surrounded her.

The walls had carvings on them, spirals and patterns that were very well carved. Anima wandered down the passageway, heading toward the deepest chamber, as unwanted thought crept into her mind.

Did she want to kiss Senan again? Yes, very much so. She liked him a lot; he made her laugh and, perhaps most importantly, made her forget her mortality. When he was talking she felt as though they could both go on forever. A day with him lasted minutes, and yet it did so in a way that didn’t make her feel as though her time was being wasted.

The carvings she examined were so precise, as was the construction of the place. It had clearly been created by skilled men and women. But there was one thing in particular that Anima took note of as she walked down the passageway: no magic. Not in the stones, not in the soil, not one trace of magic in the whole place. Despite its impressive size and even more impressive layout, sorcerers had not been used to build this place. It had been done by the hard work and labour of the mortals who had lived here.

For some reason that made Anima smile. Maybe mortals losing their magic was a tragedy, maybe the way they lived now compared to only fifty years ago was depressing, but there was something about the average mortal that pushed through silly things like other people’s imposed limitations, and instead built gigantic monuments to catch the sun at the winter solstice sunrise.

But _could_ she kiss Senan again? Where would it lead? What if it turned serious? King Bor would never allow someone like Senan into Asgard, and Anima could not move to Midgard to be with Senan, or rather, she _could_ , chances were no one would stop her if she really insisted. But Anima had been raised in one of the most advanced realms on Yggdrasil. Her magical research relied on access to the books and scrolls of seidr that lived in the palace library. Her meals every night were varied and perfectly cooked. Right now she could take that food down to him and Niler to share, but if she were to move permanently to Midgard then that would stop.

Anima took her time wandering down the long passageway to the chamber at the end. In it she saw the dead, or rather, bones left over from cremation. There were only a few, and it was clear even to her amateurish eyes that they had been considered important people in life. The goods left by their remains told her as much. She stepped back so as not to disturb them and took a look into the side chamber to see what was there.

Materials for cleaning, probably for the religious leaders to cleanse themselves once they entered the mound, Anima guessed, but she wouldn’t be able to prove it unless she wanted to come back next year and hide in the chamber, using magic to make herself invisible.

So, maybe.

The storybooks said that love, if that’s what this might become, could conquer any obstacle. Bestla had always said that love was wonderful to have, but ultimately not essential. Anima couldn’t help but feel that it was somewhere in the middle. She wanted to spend her days with Senan, but when he was off hunting in the forest or gathering wood for the fire, then she would be left with a one-room hut with a pot filled with water to bath in, and nothing about that appealed to her at all. 

Investigation complete and thoroughly confused in her thoughts, Anima pulled out the tesseract and concentrated, transporting herself back to her rooms on Asgard.

****

Odin was waiting in Anima’s rooms when she returned.

“I wondered how you were getting around without the Bifrost,” he said.

“You shouldn’t be in my room,” Anima said.

“I was worried about you,” Odin said.

“I’m a grown woman, and this is my room. Be worried on the other side of the door,” Anima said.

Odin gave her a stern look, but she stared him down. He broke first.

“I apologise for entering your room without an invitation,” he said. “But I still want to talk about the tesseract.”

Anima put it down on her table and turned to face him. “Uncle Loki gave it to me,” she said.

“Loki has a habit of giving people presents that are dangerous in the wrong hands,” Odin said.

“Are my hands the wrong ones?” Anima asked.

“No,” Odin said. “Please, Anima, listen. The tesseract can move people across great distances, but how? What is it really? Does its power come with a price? You don’t know the answers to that. What I see is a very powerful weapon being used so that you can go and visit a forbidden realm, against the law set down by the King.”

Anima gave a one-arm shrug. “You don’t know where I went,” she said.

This time she was the one to break under Odin’s gaze.

“Alright, so I went to Midgard a few – hundred – times, but it’s my realm! I fit in there.”

Odin looked at her sadly. “You don’t feel like you fit in here?” he asked her.

Anima slumped her shoulders and sat on her bed. “No, Father, no one takes me seriously here, no one wants to make friends with me, or… or love me, because I won’t be here tomorrow.”

Odin came and sat down next to her. “I love you,” he said, “your sisters do too.”

Anima smiled at him, but her face was sad. “You know that’s not enough,” she said.

Odin bowed his head. Perhaps a life of isolation was preferred by some people, but many longed for companionship, and Anima was one of them.

“Let me see if I can find someone, a scholar of some kind, who can tell us what the tesseract is and how it works,” he said. “I just want to make sure that you are safe.”

Anima sighed. “Okay Father, but if you find someone I want to be there when you speak to them, and I’m not stopping using the tesseract in the meantime. I’ve been using it for two years and nothing has happened to me so far.”

Odin nodded. “Deal,” he said.

****

Brunnhilde thought it was hilarious that her sister had to come to the junior training sessions. She kept looking over at Tarah and giggling.

The five girls had all been given a copy of Daianya’s schedule, and now shadowed her wherever she went. Daianya honestly felt as though she was the one being punished, at least, at first. But soon changed her mind when she realised how easy the other girls had had it before now.

Their classroom work was usually done when the juniors were training, so now they had to do it in the evenings in what used to be their free time, then they had to do the intermediate work as well. The junior work they could do in the classroom, sitting squashed at the tiny desks because, unlike Daianya, they stubbornly refused to bring in their own larger ones. 

The training sessions themselves were also an eye opener. Every day they did all three levels. Gunhild made them practice the basics over and over again with the younger trainees, forcing them to duck down low to block. She also refused to let them rotate out, so there were an endless number of younger girls all eager to practice against them for two straight hours.

There was only a fifteen minute break before the intermediate trainees arrived, and then it was obstacle courses and ranged weapons, which to the girl’s horror they were corrected in multiple times.

“Your technique has grown sloppy. Hold your arm up higher! Bring that bow in closer!”

By lunchtime they were exhausted. Daianya ate quickly and worked on her schoolwork; she didn’t have much time in the evenings to get it done and liked to get a head start.

After lunch they joined their regular session of physical training, in which they were put to every test over and over again as normal, except now they were starting with aching limbs.

Then they filed into Gunhild’s office for her special class. She set them a hundred tactical problems and told them to let her know when they were done.

Daianya worked through her own problems as quickly and efficiently as she could, before pulling out her other work again and ploughing through even more before the end of the class.

And then the day was finally over, except that twice a week, after a hasty snack, they all headed back down to the training rings to meet with Tyr.

The first time he saw them he looked confused, but Solveig had come with them and explained to him that he would be fighting all of them. 

He had struggled not to grin during her explanation, nodding seriously as he could, before turning delighted eyes on the five girls in front of him.

“So… are we wrestling first?” he asked Daianya.

She nodded wearily. “Let’s do it,” she said.

He beat her, but then the audience of girls that she found distracting seemed instead to make him try even harder, and after a few minutes she hit the dirt.

“Who’s next?” he asked, looking over at them

One by one he tossed them in the dirt; then he picked up his sword.

Daianya fought well, but her muscles were still tired, she lasted what she felt was an acceptable amount of time. The other girls he beat inside of a minute.

“Again?” he asked cockily.

Daianya, who normally did not get any rest at all, rose from the side and drew her sword.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He still beat her, but it was a closer fight. The other girls looked thoroughly miserable as they each took their turns afterwards.

“How is this fair?” Milnia spat as they walked back to the barracks after it was over.

“It’s not,” Daianya said. “Battle isn’t fair, no one on the opposing side cares if you are weaker than they are, in fact they would prefer it.”

“So how do we fight?” Hildra asked.

“Together,” Daianya said. “It’s not a coincidence that the Valkyrie training involves a lot of team-related fighting moves.”

Milnia rolled her eyes, but the others looked thoughtful.

****

Eitri and Brokkr sat side by side at the front of the shuttle, carefully navigating through the rocky field to reach the rendezvous point with their client. In the back of the shuttle the gauntlet gleamed in the light. It radiated with a faint aura of energy, and when Eitri had completed the final touches he had done so with an audience of craftsmen, all watching in awe.

And now it was time for the delivery. Eitri had originally chosen to go alone, as his client had come to him via an intermediary which usually meant that they would balk at a large retinue. Brokkr had insisted on coming though, and Eitri had given way because he understood Brokkr’s anger and grief, and because a three days trip by himself was lonely affair.

He guided the shuttle down further and carefully began the landing sequence. The shuttle jolted slightly as it hit the ground. 

“Where’s the meeting point?” Brokkr asked, scanning the imagine of the nearby terrain on his screen.

“About a kilometre away, behind that ridge,” Eitri said. “If they try to double cross us then I want the shuttle to be protected.”

He activated a control on the shuttle and the outside turned slightly reflective, making it blend into the environment around it. The two Dwarves left the shuttle and made their way across the ground towards the meeting point.

They were just reaching the peak of the ridge when a ship descended from the atmosphere, coasting down across the rocky ground until it came to a spot below them and landed with a jolt.

“Old shock absorbers,” Brokkr muttered. “Not a good sign for payment.”

“Unless they have saved everything they had in order to pay us,” Eitri pointed out.

They watched as the door to the shuttle opened and a figure walked out.

Tall, purple, imposing and proud, the figure was instantly recognisable as a Titan.

Brokkr went to rise to head down the slope but Eitri grabbed him and pulled him back down.

“No,” he whispered.

Brokkr turned to look at him in confusion. “So he’s a Titan, who cares? He wants Asgard gone and so do we!” he hissed.

Eitri shook his head. “I know that man,” he said. “I know his name, and I know his reputation. That’s Thanos!”

Brokkr paused at the mention of the name. Thanos of Titan had made a name for himself on the battlefield as a ruthless and unstoppable foe. He had also been the one to set off the weapon which had almost destroyed Asgard during the war.

“If we have to side with him to achieve our goals then so be it!” Brokkr said.

“No,” Eitri said.

“What? You can’t be serious? With your gauntlet he will destroy Asgard for certain!”

“And then us straight after,” Eitri said. “Thanos was known for remembering enemies, they say he holds grudges forever, and that he has loyalty to no one.”

Brokkr scowled. “He came to us, remember? He’s meeting us here in person. Clearly he does not believe we are to blame for Asgard’s success against his people. Now come on! Let’s greet him before he loses patience and leaves.”

Eitri shook his head hard and slipped further down the ridge and out of sight. He stood u and started jogging back to the shuttle.

“Eitri! What are you doing?!” Brokkr exclaimed, chasing after him.

“I will not ally myself with Thanos of Titan, not now, not ever,” Eitri said. “I’m sorry, brother, I know you want your revenge and I promise you that I do too, but this is not the way to do it. Anything that gives someone like Thanos more power will only end in catastrophe for all of us.”

He reached the shuttle and headed inside, putting the gauntlet back on its plinth and starting the take-off sequence.

“Brother, please,” Brokkr said. 

“I’ve made my decision, Brokkr, I will not help Thanos. Anyone else, yes, but not Thanos,” Eitri said.

The shuttle rose from the ground and Eitri pulled up into the atmosphere as fast as he could. 

And below on the surface, Thanos watched the ship go with an annoyed expression. He sighed slowly and heavily in disappointment and walked back inside his own ship.


	32. A True Battle

**Twelve years until the Convergence**

Daianya was fast asleep when the alarm went off.

It was the Valkyrie call to battle alarm, and her heart leapt into her throat as she scrambled out of bed and tried to pull off her nightdress.

It was tough going, the sleeves were rather snug around her arms and she felt a few stitches pop at the seams as she pulled it over her head.

She pulled on her armour hurriedly. She had never worn it seriously, even for training, which she started to regret as she struggled to pull it on quickly.

At least she didn’t have to worry about the helmet. Months ago, Anima had done as she promised and cast an enchantment on it; the moment it touched Daianya’s head her hair fell completely straight, allowing her to wear it.

The hair which was not touching the helmet remained as wild and bushy as ever, even more so because she didn’t bother to tie it back.

Finally ready, she raced out of her room and down the stairs to the barracks.

****

She was not the last one to be ready, much to her relief. The yard outside the barracks was teaming with warriors all lining up and double checking their weapons.

To one side, Daianya saw the other Valkyrie trainees. She made her way over to join them.

General Hymir was standing on a platform overseeing the confusion sternly. He saw the trainees at the edge of the yard and frowned.

“I didn’t call up the Valkyrie,” he said.

“I did,” Solveig said, walking out of the barracks accompanied by a few stragglers. “They’re the senior trainees; I want them to witness the battle.”

He gave a brisk nod and turned back to his men.

“Fall in! Now! The battle will be over by the time you lot are ready!” he barked. “The Kronans are raiding Alfheim and they need our help, now _move_.”

Solveig turned to face her trainees.

“Everyone is to go to the stable and mount up,” she said. “I am escorting you to the battle but you _will not fight_. I want you to watch our army in action. You are almost ready to be full Valkyrie, but training means nothing if you can’t handle battle. I intend to find out who my next wave of Valkyrie truly are.”

They all turned and ran to the stable where the Pegasus slept. Daianya felt a rush of excitement and a tiny bit of fear. She had watched recordings of battles in her classes – they all had – but a real battle was bound to be worse.

The Pegasi had all been woken and saddled by the Valkyrie stable hands. They were standing in a row out in their exercise yard.

Daianya mounted up on the nearest Pegasus and took a deep breath to keep calm. As a princess, she had been taught to ride both regular and flying horses from a young age, which was a mercy because she had enough training to attend as it was. _Fighting_ on Pegasi was one of the last types of training to be taught, and she had a feeling that Solveig was going to use this as an informal entrance exam.

The trainees all got into formation and waited as Solveig came into the yard. She looked them over with shrewd eyes and then reached for her own mount.

“You will follow me through the Bifrost,” she said in a loud, clear voice. “You will stay behind me in formation as the battle commences. You _will_ keep on the lookout for flying projectiles and other weapons heading our way. Make no mistake, the Kronans do not know that you are trainees, and they wouldn’t care if they knew. If they think they can hit you they will. If they think they can _kill_ you. They. Will.”

Her gaze bore into each and every one of them in turn, driving home the seriousness of her words.

“Don’t die,” she said. “I hate burying people younger than me.”

With that she turned her mount and led them out of the yard.

Daianya urged her Pegasus forward and focussed on Solveig’s back. There was a part of her that still felt as though this was some kind of adventure, and that it wasn’t truly real. But a larger part of her knew that it was very serious, possibly the most serious thing she’d ever done.

There was a Bifrost beacon in the barracks yard for quick transportation of mass people. The warriors were all assembled within the designated confines. Daianya watched as the Bifrost activated over the assembled warriors in the yard and sucked them away into the sky. Then General Solveig walked her mount further up to within the confines and turned in the saddle to check that they were behind her.

Satisfied, she called out to the man controlling the Bifrost and he activated it again.

Travelling through the Bifrost was best described as an experience. First it seemed to lurch you upward, but then the sensation faded and instead became one of slightly unbalanced motion, followed by the arrival, which was in the air.

Daianya held on tight to the reins and clenched her thighs over the saddle as the Pegasus beneath her spread its wings and halted their tumble.

Several of the trainees fell further and had to guide their mounts back up into formation as quickly as possible.

They had appeared well back from the battle, which was just now being engaged. Daianya watched with wild eyes as the warriors of Asgard charged the Kronan raiders.

There was a violent crunch as the two groups came together, and weapons of metal and stone began flying around.

The first warrior to die was a shock. Even though some casualties were expected, actually seeing it made Daianya’s breath hitch in her throat.

His soul broke free of his body and raced down the branches of Yggdrasil to Valhalla. Daianya tracked it all the way before she suddenly remembered where she was and why she needed to keep her mind in the physical world.

She looked back over the battle hastily. Thankfully her moment of inattention had not been costly.

The next warrior to die did so in a spurt of blood. One of the trainees away to Daianya’s right started throwing up.

She ignore it, just as she ignored the flash of orange light that indicated that his soul had cut loose from his body.

From the battle, a large stone suddenly took flight.

“Dodge!” Solveig called out, and the group in the air scattered to either side to let the stone sail past.

It crashed into the ground far behind them, but Daianya was already looking forward again.

Solveig scanned the battle watchfully, glancing back every now and again to take in the reactions of the trainees.

“From behind!” she suddenly called. Daianya turned and saw a Kronan who had been sneaking up on them. He lifted a rock in preparation to throw it.

Solveig swooped down from above and slashed down onto his arm with her sword before darting away. He let out a cry and dropped the stone, but went to pick it up again almost immediately.

Solveig swooped again, distracting and cutting into him, slowly wearing him down as he tried to fight her off.

Daianya suddenly turned, remembering that the battle was actually in the other direction. She was just in time to see another Kronan pick up a large boulder.

“Dodge!” she yelled, pointing him out.

The trainees scattered again, some more gracefully than others. The reality of battle was starting to get to them to varying degrees.

Daianya scanned the battle and its surrounds, trusting that General Solveig could handle herself.

She saw the moment the battle started to turn in favour of the Asgardian army. The Kronans began to lose more men more quickly as they fell back, and back further.

Some of the warriors formed a small battalion and charged, driving back the Kronans with yells and shouts.

One particularly large Kronan charged back at them, knocking a number of them out of the way and bulldozing his way through the battlelines until he was almost in front of the trainees.

He looked up at them and grinned.

Daianya’s hand drifted to her sword. Only if she had to, but how was she supposed to know when she had to?

He reached down and picked up a boulder as easily as most people would pick up a river stone. His eyes scanned the group until he picked his target.

Daianya knew without looking that it would be the girl who was throwing up; she was the most vulnerable of them because her reaction times were slower.

He pulled back his arm. Daianya turned to look at the girl, who was not watching the battle.

“Dodge!” she screamed as the Kronan threw his stone.

The girl looked up and froze, eyes wide as the stone sailed towards her. Daianya left her saddle and jumped across the distance between them, knocking the girl off her Pegasus and sending them both tumbling to the ground below as the stone missed her by centimetres.

They hit the ground hard. Daianya scrambled to her feet and drew her sword, standing in front of the other girl defensively.

She was saved by a berserker.

One of the Aesir warriors had reached breaking point. His anger and lust for battle overwhelmed him and he began to glow red with insanity and rage. He charged the Kronan from behind, grabbing at the cracks in its body and tearing them apart.

The Kronan roared out in pain and swung around, bashing at the berserker over and over again, but it was no use. The berserkers of Asgard were completely invulnerable during their rages. The Kronan broke his own hand slamming in down on the man’s head.

Daianya grabbed the girl behind her and forced her further away from the battle. She heard a call from above and saw Solveig had won her fight and was back in charge of the group.

She flew down towards them, followed by their Pegasi, who came at her whistle.

Daianya pushed the girl back into her saddle before mounting up herself. Solveig didn’t say anything as they took to the air and rejoined their formation.

The berserker was still tearing at the Kronan, even though he was dead. Berserker rage had a side effect of reducing the higher thinking levels to near zero until it wore off, and so the man kept tearing the body into smaller and smaller pieces, until one of his fellow warriors saw what he was doing and came over to direct him back into the remains of the battle.

Ten minutes later it was over. Some Kronans had fled, others were captured, and far more were dead.

“And now we do our duty,” Solveig said. “It is the role of the Valkyrie to collect the dead.”

She led them down to the ground and dismounted, before turning to face them.

“Battle is hard, gruesome and ugly, and it always ends in death for someone. To ensure we never forget that, we take charge of the dead, to bring them back to Asgard where their bodies will be buried and their families will mourn them. Fan out and find them.”

Daianya dismounted and began walking over the battlefield. Blood, discarded weapons, and bits of bodies were everywhere.

She found the corpse of the first man to fall and knelt beside it. She pressed his eyes closed with a gentle hand and then lifted him up over the back of her Pegasus. Then she took the straps tied up at the back of her saddle and secured him, before mounting up again.

One warrior; one Valkyrie. That was the way it was; that was the way it had always been.

She mounted up again and rode carefully back to where Solveig was waiting.

Solveig gave her a nod of acknowledgement and together they waited for the others to return with fallen warriors of their own.

Every girl had a man to take back, and there were more left of the battlefield as the Bifrost activated. Just two hours earlier they had all been assembling in the yard. They were well trained and battle-hardened, and now they were dead.

Daianya unstrapped the man’s body from her mount and lifted him down onto the ground of the yard. The trainees laid the men out in careful lines, and then went to fetch bowls of water and cloths to clean the dead.

There were a few Valkyrie in armour and on Pegasi waiting for Solveig near the Bifrost beacon. She spoke to them briefly before it activated, sending them to collect the rest of the dead.

Daianya washed the man’s body carefully, wiping away the blood and the dirt and exposing the youth of his face.

He looked about twenty five.

She bit her lip and moved on to another man, washing his down as best she could. It was hard. His head had been caved in by a rock and the top left corner was missing entirely.

The girl who had thrown up at the sight of battle was heaving over to the side. A number of trainees looked unwell, or otherwise disturbed. Daianya kept working. She’d known there would be tough times. She’d known that this was a duty she would have to perform.

She washed and cleaned until she ran out of men, then she stood and faced General Solveig.

“You did well, Daianya,” she said. “You saved Nora’s life.”

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Daianya asked.

“No. The Valkyrie will take over, go and rest,” Solveig said.

Daianya nodded and walked wearily back to her room. For the first time in three years she didn’t take the stairs.

The sun was just rising as she stepped into her bathroom and pulled off her armour. She turned the water up as hot as she could stand and stood under it for a long time.

Did she have what it took to be a Valkyrie? Could she stand collecting and preparing the dead after every battle? Could she face all that and then return to her life after each one and laugh and eat and move on?

She took a deep breath. She already knew the answer. So did General Solveig. 

Yes.

****

Some months later, Daianya stood in the dressmaker’s shop with her arms out, trying not to shift from foot to foot as the seamstress measured the width of her arms.

“Are they going to keep getting bigger?” Anima asked her while Nal admired the blue silk on display with a keen eye.

“I don’t know,” Daianya said. “They look about the same size as General Solveig’s when I tense them.”

“They suit you, you look strong,” Anima said. 

“You look like you could shove someone through a brick wall,” Nal added, looking cheerful at the thought.

“Pity the fashion right now is for narrow sleeves, if flared ones were popular then you wouldn’t have to have all your dresses changed,” Anima said.

“Can I have wider sleeves?” Daianya asked the seamstress. “I won’t be the most fashionable woman around but I’ve never really cared about that, but I would like more freedom of movement when I’m wearing a dress.”

The seamstress nodded. “We can do anything you wish, your Grace,” she said, and widened her measurement slightly.

“I’ll see you later,” Nal said. “I’m going to go down to the plant market and see if they have anything new. I heard a trader from Alfheim had arrived this morning.”

Daianya gave her a nod and Anima gave her a wave and she left the seamstress’.

“One of us is going to have to go after her eventually,” Anima said. “She is absolutely going to buy more than she can carry.”

“One of us? It’s got to be you, you’re the only one who can teleport them back home,” Daianya said.

“Yes, true, but with your strength you could just lift them all and carry them back,” Anima said.

Daianya stifled a chuckle. “I used to watch the Valkyrie training when I was younger. I longed for muscles like theirs.”

Anima grinned. “How are things going with Tyr?” she asked. “Are you still beating him half the time?”

“Yes I am, and he keeps insisting it’s because he’s tired from fighting the other three,” Daianya said.

“They’re still sticking it out?” Anima said. “I thought for sure you would lose another one by now.”

Milnia had quit one month into joining Daianya’s training schedule. She had thrown down her sword in anger one day and stormed off to pack her things. Rumours around the barracks said that she was working as a labourer and security for a pub, helping to unpack the deliveries every morning and stacking them in the cellar, and spending every night keeping drunkards from causing too much trouble.

Ompile had quit after witnessing her first battle. She had held it together throughout the whole thing, but fallen apart that night in the barracks. Daianya wasn’t sure where she was now.

So far the other three girls had stuck it out. Tarah was stubborn enough to last as long as she needed to; not only was her mother a Valkyrie but little Brunnhilde would never let her forget it if she quit. Aeriada and Hildra would probably make it too; they tended to support each other which kept them both going.

“All finished, your Grace. We’ll have all your sleeves adjusted in a few weeks,” the seamstress said brightly.

“Thank you,” Daianya said, lowering her arms gratefully and shaking the muscles out.

 _I need help,_ Nal thought in their heads. _I bought a tree._

The two sisters looked at one another.

“We’ll both go,” Daianya said.

****

Odin was waiting for the three sisters when they returned from the city. He had been away from Asgard, travelling among some of the more well-known trading ports and following a lead he had found several months earlier.

“Father!” Nal exclaimed, giving his a hug.

Anima followed suit but Daianya was only able to give him a nod; her arms were full of tree.

“What have you bought?” Odin asked them.

“A twinkle tree from Alfheim!” Nal said gleefully. “It will go perfectly in the light garden. The seller said it’s blossoms glow pink and purple.”

“How… are you carrying that by yourself?” Odin asked, switching questions mid-sentence as the sight of his second daughter holding a tree twice her size finally sank in.

“Oh… this?” Daianya said. “It’s… nothing.”

“You’re clearly straining,” Anima pointed out.

“I had no idea you were so strong,” Odin said. “I knew you were training hard but this is wonderful progress.”

Daianya grinned at him.

“Can you get it as far as the light garden?” Nal asked her.

“I’ll help,” Odin said. “Just because you _can_ doesn’t mean you should have to.”

He took one end of the tree and they carried it through the gardens together.

“I’ve found a man who can tell us more about the tesseract,” Odin said to Anima as they walked.

“Oh? It still hasn’t done anything dangerous,” Anima said.

“I don’t care whether it’s done something dangerous or not, supposedly this man specialises in rare artefacts and may know how something as powerful as the tesseract came to be. Are you still using it to visit Midgard?”

“Yes,” Anima said. “But I also recast the spells around the palace to prevent teleportation into the king’s rooms, your rooms, our rooms, the weapons’ vault, and a bunch of other sensitive places. Now even with the tesseract I can’t get through.”

“Good. That means neither can anyone else,” Odin said. “This man lives on a planet unmapped by the Bifrost mechanism, so we will have to take a ship.”

“A ship? We’re going to space? _I’m_ going to space?” Anima asked.

“I did promise that when I found someone who could tell us about the tesseract then you could come,” Odin said. “So yes, you are going to space.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who has trouble visualising it, Daianya does not look like a bodybuilder, but rather like a very fit and strong woman, similar to Janeshia Adams, who was the stunt double for the character of Okoye on Black Panther. Example below:
> 
> https://www.gettyimages.co.uk/detail/news-photo/janeshia-adams-ginyard-arrives-for-infolist-com-hosts-pre-news-photo/1142453770


	33. The Art of Surviving Direbears

Hela walked into Bor’s outer office and nodded curtly to his secretary.

“A Direbear has been spotted up in the mountains. I wish to take a party to pursue it,” she said.

The secretary disappeared for a moment before returning and gesturing her to go inside.

He gave her a bow of respect as she passed, which made her smile. She liked to be shown proper respect.

Bor was at his desk when she came in.

“Direbear?” he said immediately.

“Reports have come in from farmers at the base of the western mountains,” she said. “I want to take a team to dispose of it.”

Bor nodded. “Go then.”

“Can I take Loki?” Hela asked.

Bor looked at her curiously.

“He’s good in a fight,” she said.

Bor raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Tell him I ordered him to go with you,” he said.

Hela bowed and turned away.

****

She found Loki in the rose garden, lying in the sun like a starfish.

“The king has ordered us to hunt and kill a Direbear at the base of the western mountains. We are leaving immediately,” Hela said.

Loki opened his eyes and raise a hand to shade the sun from his eyes.

“Oh, Hela, how are you? I’ve been well, just lying here, enjoying the sun and how good it feels to be alive. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in again, it’s fantastic,” he said.

Hela smiled through gritted teeth. Ever since Loki had survived her attempt to kill him he had gone out of his way to taunt her every time they met. He knew she’d tried to kill him, and she knew that he knew, and he knew that she knew that he knew. 

But no one else seemed to, and for some strange reason Loki had not mentioned it to anyone. Hela had no idea why, and the uncertainty annoyed her.

“Get up,” she snapped at him. “We are going now.”

Loki sat up slowly, stretching and making obscenely loud yawning sounds.

“Oooh, nothing like a good lie in the sun to make you feel wonderfully alive,” he said, before springing to his feet. “How are we getting there?”

“Fenrir will be taking us, it’s been ages since he went on a good hunt,” Hela said.

****

Fenrir was a terrifying sight at the best of times, but doubly so when he entered the yard where the Bifrost beacon was located. He was as tall as the barracks, and his eyes were pitch black and constantly watchful. His mouth was big enough to swallow a man whole.

But when he saw Loki he began to jump from foot to foot playfully, yipping and yelping in delight at the sight of his father.

“Hello my darling boy, how have you been?” Loki asked him, giving his nose a scratch.

Fenrir made a yipping sound and then lay down, rolling over for a belly scratch. His roll forced Hela’s men to leap out of the way to avoid being crushed, which made Hela laugh.

“Good boy, Fenrir darling,” she said with a smile that was almost warm.

The men, Ragnar, Thornir, Tumbrol and Norab all lined up behind Loki, guessing correctly that Fenrir wouldn’t crush his father, even by accident.

Hela waved to the operator to activate the Bifrost. The rainbow light shone down around them and pulled them upwards into the sky.

They arrived at the base of the western mountains, near the coordinates Hela had entered. She immediately created two blades and began walking confidently into the woods that surrounded them.

“Are we not tracking it?” Loki asked. “Or are we just going to wander around until it finds us?”

“Fenrir will track it,” Hela said. “Won’t you darling?”

Fenrir sniffed the ground as he made his way through the trees as best he could. A few of them were pushed to the side with the sound of ripping roots as he forced his way through.

The others walked along behind him with their weapons drawn, all except Loki who skipped from rock to root with merry glee.

They walked for a few hours; the men slowly grew impatient but Hela, oddly, seemed more than willing to wait out the direbear wherever it turned out to be.

Finally, after a few hours of walking, Fenrir perked up. His ears lifted high on his head and he began to sniff the ground with more interest.

“Have you found it?” Hela asked, eyes sparkling.

Fenrir pushed forwards with purpose; the others followed with renewed concentration.

They walked for ten more minutes, and then Fenrir paused and began to growl.

The direbear was three times the size of a regular bear, and it had claws and teeth to match. Hela, Loki and the men fanned out to flank it as Fenrir and the direbear sized one another up.

The two beasts came together in a rush of claws and teeth. The men began to cheer and yell encouragement as Fenrir snarled and snapped at the direbear, forcing it to give ground.

Loki was on the edge, hands up and the red light of his magic sparkling between them. As Fenrir pulled back briefly following a tear to its throat, he shot a blast of magic at the direbear. It roared in surprise and fear as the magic turned its eyes to glass.

Fenrir attacked again, biting deeply into the direbear’s side and tearing at the flesh. The men shouted and reached in to stab excitedly whenever they saw an opening.

Unnoticed by the others, Hela made her weapons disappear. She slinked back away from the fight and moved quickly through the trees until she reached a cage in the woods. Inside was another direbear, bigger than the last. She pulled out a key and unlocked the cage before sprinting back to the fight.

Fenrir tore the belly of the direbear out with a violent shake of his head. He tilted his head back and roared in victory. Hela ran towards him and jumped up onto his back. She pressed a button in her pocket and the Bifrost activated, sending her and Fenrir beneath her flying back to the palace.

The others looked at one another in confusion. 

“What?” Ragnar started to say, but broke off when he heard the growl from the trees.

The second direbear, attracted by the sounds of battle, had arrived at their location. It roared, enraged by the smell of blood on the ground.

The men held their weapons out defensively; Loki raised his hands and summoned his magic.

The direbear charged, and the air was filled with screams.

****

Anima stuffed another dress into her bag and tried to tie it closed. Odin had told her to pack for a three week journey, and she didn’t want to be caught out.

“It will be for a few weeks,” she said. “The ship will be travelling by portal generator, but they need to recharge from background magic once they are spent.”

“Sounds excitin’, and then you’ll go to a whole other world?” Senan asked her through her pendant.

“Yes, I’ve only been to Midgard so far, I wonder if this world will be very different. I hope so,” Anima said. I’ve never gone to space before, not even for a quick trip. Spaceships are rare and mostly used for scouting and placing Bifrost markers, and _because_ they are only used for scouting and things of that nature, they’re all very small and quite cramped.”

“Like my hut?” Senan asked.

“Slightly bigger, but there will be four of us altogether, Father, the pilot, a guard and me.”

“And you’re excited about spending such a long amount of time with your father?” Senan asked. “I’d tear my hair out clean from the roots if I were stuck with my father for that long. Even when he was talkin’ to me we didn’t get along that well.”

“I’m really excited about it. Father is so busy that I normally have to make an appointment if I want to talk to him about anything complicated. It will be nice to be able to just talk.”

Anima managed to get the bag closed properly and hefted it onto her back to take down to the landing pad. She reached out and picked up the tesseract from her shelf and shoved it into the little side bag tied to her belt. 

“I really hope that this thing proves to be a nice, stable, enchanted object which can in no way endanger Asgard. Otherwise I’ll have to give it up to Father and I won’t be able to come and visit you anymore,” she said.

“Well nothin’s happened so far, so how bad can it be?” Senan asked her.

“I’ve travelled back and forth so many times over the years that I know the shape of the spell I need as well as I know my own features in the mirror, but the level of power I would need to summon is… is too much,” Anima said. “I need the tesseract to provide the power.”

“Well, from what you say it’s a very long way to travel, it’s probably not possible to summon that much power on your own,” Senan said.

Anima sighed softly. “It can be done,” she admitted. “But there’s a catch. If a mortal summons more magic than they can hold then either they die immediately, or they start burning their lifeforce away in order to hold it. If all their lifeforce burns then they die anyway.”

“What’s a lifeforce?” Senan asked.

“It tells you when you are going to die,” Anima said. “Mortal bodies can wither away and die faster than their lifeforce is depleted, and these days it looks like they frequently do, but even if they have the best medicine, and the best nutrition, and no injuries or illnesses, even then… one day the lifeforce will run out and then they will die anyway.”

“And you don’t want that happenin’ any faster than it has to,” Senan said.

“Would you?” Anima asked.

“Of course not. No one want to die early. So, can you see people’s lifeforces with your magic? Can you tell me how long I’ve got if everythin’ goes right?”

Anima smiled. “I know a spell,” she said. “But do you really want to know?”

“Sure, it’ll help me plan for me last winter. No sense in stockpiling if you don’t need to. Cuttin’ and stackin’ all that wood for the fire every year is hard work.” 

Anima smiled at his practicality; Senan was always practical. He had a way of looking at things that made her feel very grounded every time they spoke.

“Do you want to visit another world one day?” she asked him.

“Sure, one day, when old Niler is gone and doesn’t need carin’ for anymore. I’d love to come and see your world, or maybe just more of my own. Those pyramids you told me about sound amazin’.”

“If this thing proves to be safe then I’ll take you to go and see them,” Anima promised. “But now I have to go.”

“I’ll see you when you get back,” he said.

She got into the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. A servant was waiting when it opened. He looked slightly surprised to see her standing there, but recovered quickly and gave her a bow.

“I was sent to collect your bag, your Grace,” he said.

Anima handed it over gratefully. “Thank you,” she said, stretching her back out.

He carried it easily, and she walked beside him all the way to the landing pad, on which sat the little ship they were going to take.

Odin was already there. He smiled at her as she walked up to the ship.

“It’s going to be cramped,” he warned, “last chance to back out.”

Anima shook her head stubbornly. “I want to see space,” she said.

Odin grinned at her and held out his hand to help her into the ship.

It was indeed, very cramped. The pilot sat at the front in a single seat control section. The body of the ship sat behind. There was a table in the middle of the section and seats on either side. Above them were the beds, with ladders to reach them.

“I wanted to order new ships,” Odin said, “but after everything that happened with the Dwarves it might be best to wait awhile.”

“That was two years ago now,” Anima said.

“Yes,” Odin said, “far too soon to be making enquires. We’ll have to give it a century before we approach them, maybe even longer.”

“No new ships for me then,” Anima said, sitting down on one of the seats.

She was looking towards the front of the ship where the pilot sat, and so missed Odin’s wince at her words. He sat down beside her and put his arm around her in a hug.

“You were born to light up a brief portion of my life,” he said. “And one day when I am old, and greyer than old Bragi, I shall remember how much joy you gave me, and then my soul shall go and find you.”

She turned and gave him a smile. “Don’t be sad, Father, I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she said. “Let’s change the subject.”

“The healers still haven’t found any way to extend your lifespan?” Odin asked.

Anima looked at him as sternly as she could which, in fairness to Loki’s description of her, did make her look rather like a puppy trying to tell off a bear.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I don’t, I haven’t for a while. There are many mortals out there all living the same length of time. I am here now, and that’s what’s important.”

Odin smiled then. “You look so much like your mother,” he said. “But you don’t talk the way she did. She was terrifying and intimidating. You are…”

“Delightful?” Anima filled in for him, making them both laugh.

“We’re ready to depart, your Grace,” the pilot called from the control section.

“Very well,” Odin said. “You haven’t forgotten anything?” he asked Anima.

“If I have then you can stop the ship, and I’ll use the tesseract to go back and get it,” Anima said. “Just don’t drift anywhere until I get back.”

“You most certainly will not be doing that,” Odin said.

“You know, if you knew the _magical_ coordinates instead of the _space_ coordinates of where we are going then I could have used the tesseract to take us there instantly,” Anima said.

“And if it proves to be dangerous then we would be stranded,” Odin replied. “But I will allow you to transport us home again if it turns out to be safe. I hate travelling in such cramped conditions for so long.”

“You only just got back too,” Anima said as the pilot finished the last check and the engines began to rumble. “We didn’t have to leave straight away; you could have spent a week at home first.”

“If I’d done that your grandfather would have found work for me to do,” Odin said, “and the next thing I knew it would be a month later and we still wouldn’t have left.”

Anima turned and looked out of the window as the ship began to rise. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said as they pulled away from Asgard and she saw it fully for the first time.

“It truly is,” Odin said. “Although Loki always complains that the mountains are in the wrong places.”

“How can a mountain be in the wrong place?” Anima asked as she admired the fall of the water over the edge.

“I don’t know, something about saving more water if they were on the edge, he’s always saying crazy things like that,” Odin said.

Anima watched as the underneath of Asgard became visible.

“It’s got one giant mountain on the bottom,” she said. “Does the gravity turn around and let you walk on it?”

“No,” Odin said. “It should do, but there are very powerful magics beneath the surface of Asgard and every living thing is repelled away from the underneath. Nothing, no so much as a single weed, has ever grown on the ground beneath our realm.”

Anima’s mind flashed back to when Bragi had told her about Asgard’s creation, and the parasite that created the land and fed upon the creations of Yggdrasil.

“Is it dangerous?” she asked. “The magic beneath, is it dangerous?”

“The scholars don’t believe so,” Odin said, “at least, not as long as you remain on the upper side where you should be. You know the residual auras that get left behind after a spell has been cast? Well, they say the magic feels like it used to be life-magic, and now what we can feel is what was left after the spell was cast. But residual magic is subtle and tiny; in order to leave behind residual magic _that_ powerful, then the original spell must have been… realm-shattering.”

“Or realm-creating,” Anima said. “But the other nine realms don’t have anything like that.”

“No, Yggdrasil grew them slowly and carefully over time. We know Asgard came into being later than the others, at least, as it is now. The scholars believe that there was another realm that was as old as the rest, and that somehow the growth and creation was interrupted, but Yggdrasil managed to save what was left and grow the realm-eternal anyway.”

“Is it really the realm-eternal if it got destroyed?” Anima asked.

“It is the realm-eternal because it got saved,” Odin correctly. “Asgard is a part of Yggdrasil, the great, cosmic, world tree, it saved us, as we are a part of it, and in turn we protect the other nine realms from outside attack.”

Anima watched until Asgard was too far away to see properly. She felt as though there was something wrong with the story Odin told, but she couldn’t think what.

****

Hela was lounging in the sun with Fenrir at her side, drinking ale and letting the tension go out of her shoulders. Her only regret was that she could not stay to watch. If she had, Fenrir would have dived into the fray to defend his father, and that would have been the end of it. As it was, he had turned in circles looking for Loki the second they arrived back in the training yard, and only been distracted when Hela had offered him a whole elk to eat in the garden.

Hela had not reported the deaths yet; she was savouring it.

No doubt Odin would be as sad as Bor would be delighted. Daianya would take the news stoically, like the Aesir bitch she was. Nal would pout and glare and storm off to her gardens to sulk, but she wouldn’t cry. Jotnir couldn’t cry, no tear ducts or something - Hela hadn’t really been listening in her classes when they covered non-vital organs based anatomy – but no doubt Anima would make up for it by weeping like a child.

So a good result all around.

“You know what _else_ I love about breathing?” said a familiar voice from behind her.

Hela’s eyes snapped open in shock, which was rapidly overtaken by outrage as she sat up and turned around.

“The way it just keeps on going in the background while you’re doing other things,” Loki said, plopping down in the chair next to her. “In, out, in, out, it’s just such a wonderful feeling!”

His clothing was badly torn and stained with mud and blood, his hair was similarly coated and stuck up wildly in all directions from his head, and he was grinning. Hela just stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Go on,” he goaded, “say it.”

“You were supposed to die!” she hissed.

“I’m not very good at doing what I’m supposed to do,” he said. “But the other men you left behind were absolutely fantastic at it.”

He made a complicated gesture with his hands and four bodies appeared on the lawn beside them. Loki made another gesture and the giant head of the second direbear joined them.

“I’m going to go and have this mounted as a trophy to my victory,” he said. “You can arrange the funerals. Consequences must be faced, Hela darling!”

And with that he hefted the head over his shoulders and staggered away into the palace.

Hela stared at the dead men before her. Their bodies were covered in gashes and claw marks. Ragnar’s blank gaze stared in her direction almost like an accusation. Hela shook herself and turned to look at Fenrir.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him.

“Oh no! What happened here?!” 

The scream made her turn in annoyance. A small group of Lords and Ladies had entered the garden and caught sight of the dead men.

Hela groaned under her breath. Now she’d actually have to explain things.


	34. The Tesseract Revealed

The general merriment and good cheer at the feast that night only put Hela into a worse mood. She’d had to contact the families of the dead men, arrange to have them cleaned up, sent home etc. etc. blah, blah, blah.

It had taken her nearly all day to be rid of the task, and now she was suffering through an even worse fate.

Loki was telling everyone the story of the fight.

“I leapt into the air with exceeding grace! Flying over its head as Tumbrol slashed at its neck. Ragnar was creeping up from behind, so I shot a bolt of magic at it, but alas! It saw him too soon and turned, and so the bolt went wide! It clawed at him as fast as a snake! Oh, poor Ragnar’s tunic was caught in the claws and he was pulled forwards beneath the beast. But he never stopped slashing and stabbing, cutting and slicing! Good old Ragnar.”

Bor was, uncharacteristically, listening intently. Hela was fuming, silently waiting for Loki to announce her betrayal. He kept sneaking her glances to make sure she was paying attention as he went on and on about the stupid bloody fight.

“And where was Fenrir in all this?” Bor asked. “He’s the reason you had so few men. He should have been attacking the beast directly.”

“Oh didn’t I say? How very remiss of me,” Loki said, shooting another knowing glance at Hela. “He was busy fighting the _other_ direbear. There were two, the one he was fighting and the one that attacked us from behind. By the time he was done savaging the first one the second beast had killed all four of the men, and left me feeling _very_ uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” Bor asked.

“Well, injured and bleeding is not generally considered to be pleasant,” Loki clarified. “I wasn’t enjoying myself if that’s what you were asking.”

“But you lived,” Bor pointed out. “And I don’t see a scratch on you.”

“Healing magic is _really_ handy to know,” Loki said.

Hela was confused. Loki hadn’t given her away, but why? He had everything to gain from revealing her actions... unless he was banking on Bor not caring enough about him to punish her.

Perhaps if Odin were on Asgard he would be telling the real tale?

Loki gave his entire audience a grin, letting his gaze stay just a fraction of a second longer on Hela as he did so, and then wrapped up his story.

“So Fenrir charged it once he’d killed the first one – he’s such a dear sweet boy – and I grabbed a sword from where poor Thornir had dropped it. With Fenrir clamping his jaws over its middle I swung with all of my strength, and THUD! The head hit the ground! I brought it back with me, I’m going to have it mounted on my bedroom wall so that all you lovely folk can have a chance to see it after I seduce you and take you to bed with me.”

Story told, he raised his glass in a toast to the room and gulped his wine down cheerfully.

Hela stared at him with intense dislike.

“He’s an arsehole, isn’t he” Bor said in a low voice.

She turned to look at him. “His very existence grates on my nerves,” she said.

“Mine too, pity he didn’t die in that forest,” Bor said. “Instead we lost four good warriors. I don’t like excess casualties, Hela, it weakens my realm in the long term.”

Slowly she nodded. She wasn’t certain, but it sounded very much to her ears that Bor knew what she had planned and didn’t _completely_ disapprove, but then again maybe he was just making conversation. He did value his army extremely highly and would consider the loss of four warriors to a direbear to be detrimental even under normal circumstances. She watched his face carefully for a sign one way or the other, but he had already turned back to watch the room.

****

Nal and Bestla were talking animatedly at the table when Loki appeared by their sides.

“Your Grace, my Princess,” he said. “Did you enjoy my little tale?”

“It was certainly well told, but I’m sad to hear we lost some warriors,” Nal said.

“Don’t be, they were Hela’s favourites and, frankly, Asgard is a better realm without them,” Loki said.

“That’s not the way you spoke about them a moment ago,” Bestla said.

Loki shrugged. “True, but what kind of tale is that? Four bastards and one dashingly attractive man fought a direbear, got ripped to shreds, and now the realm is better off? The people want heroic deaths, not stupid ones.”

“I think the people ought to learn to like stories where nobody dies at all,” Nal said.

“That is not the world we live in,” Loki said.

“Stories don’t have to be real,” Nal said, “that’s why they are stories.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement of her point. “But would we grow bored with the telling of them?” he asked her.

His attention was diverted before she could answer. “Lord Loki?” A young woman asked from behind him.

“You can call me that if you like,” he said.

“No you can’t; he’s not a lord,” Bor snapped, making her swallow in sudden nerves.

“Come, my dear, let us talk in the corner away from kingly oversight,” Loki said, “and maybe later tonight we can practice a little royal defiance?”

He took her arm and led her away, looking back only once to give Bestla and Nal a thumbs up and a grin.

“Who was that?” Bestla asked.

“Lady Leena,” Nal said. “I just hope he doesn’t get her pregnant, Fenrir is more than enough to handle.”

“You should go to bed with him,” Bestla said in a low voice.

“What?! Grandmother… what?!” Nal spluttered.

“I’ve always wondered what code he’s hiding, but I will never be able to find out. But you are young and pretty, I bet he wouldn’t turn you down,” Bestla said.

Nal shook her head. “That’s not going to happen; Father would be horrified. The king would have his head cut off.”

“Seems to me that’s going to happen one day eventually,” Bestla said. “It might as well be after you find out what makes him what he is.”

“Why can’t you just take his hand?” Nal asked her. “Dance with him.”

“I would, but he always wears gloves to the feasts these days, and he’s always been very careful to avoid situations in which I might touch his skin without breaking my vows of marriage,” Bestla said. “His mother is frighteningly clever, so much so that I used to study her children back on Jotunheim the moment I started gathering. I must have read the code of at least two hundred of them.”

“But not Loki?”

“But not Loki; he avoided all the women, which is odd because normally Jotnir men are desperate to give you any code they can. Rumour has it Farbauti travelled to outside the nine realms to gather everything that went into making her youngest, but I can’t see how, the Bifrost was being watched by mages, Jotunheim’s spaceships were far too small for one as great in size as her. She called him her masterpiece; that is a title reserved for daughters.”

“He can read code and get pregnant,” Nal said. “He’s as much her daughter as any other. I think you are overthinking things, Grandmother. Loki is special, he can look Asgardian and cast powerfully chaotic magic, but he’s not _special_.”

“It’s not that he _can_ look Asgardian, he’s _always_ looked Asgardian, even as a boy on Jotunheim, Loki is Jotun but he has never been blue. He was born to live on Asgard, and I strongly suspect that he was made to be a spy.”

“A spy?”

“He was born during the war. A lot of men created during that time were made to hate and fight Asgardians. Perhaps Farbauti saw a different way to defeat them? But then the war ended before he came to Asgard, and when he did arrive he immediately set about drinking and bedding anyone he could.”

“Not the actions of a spy.”

“Are you sure? He’s still here after four and a half thousand years, so it must be working to some extent,” Bestla said.

Nal rolled her eyes. “Loki is probably just made up of all the Asgardian warriors who fell on the battlefield. He’s got a lot of magic and a _terrible_ sense of self-preservation, that sounds like someone smashed a mage and a warrior together and called it a day.”

“Then how did he survive the direbear’s attack, when I know for a fact that he never learnt any healing spells?” Bestla said, quietly laying down her final argument with the assured confidence of one who knew there was no possible counter.

Nal frowned. “He probably had some healing crystals or stone on him, you’d have to ask Anima, she’s the sorcerer in the family.”

Bestla sighed and looked across the room at where Loki was whispering sweet words into Lady Leena’s ear.

**** 

It took the little ship two and a half weeks to travel to the planet they were aiming for. It would have been quite a boring trip were it not for Odin, who had planned ahead with his youngest daughter in mind.

He had packed several advanced spellbooks on higher level conjuration and seidr folding, a type of magic which would enable the user to store large amounts of items within the mystical dimensions of Yggdrasil, and pull them out again whenever they were needed.

“Every caster creates a fold in the mystical dimension that only they can access,” he explained to her wrapped expression. “Which means, in theory, that no one else can ever find it. It’s extremely useful for hiding powerful weapons or treasures. A lot of mages will hide their journals in seidr folds.”

“What happens if it’s in a fold and they die?” Anima asked. “Does Yggdrasil spit everything out?”

“No, at least, not immediately. It’s more like Yggdrasil slowly grows into the space, and eventually a hole will open and the contents will become accessible again. But that can take thousands of years, and if the space created is done at a deep enough level, then Yggdrasil will grow around it instead, and the contents will remain lost forever.”

Anima frowned slightly in thought. “Is Yggdrasil really a tree?” she asked. “I know we call it one, and we say it has branches and roots, but… it’s in space? It exists in several thousand dimensions at once? That’s a pretty impressive tree.”

Odin laughed. “It most certainly is, both a tree and that impressive. I have been fortunate enough to have visited the roots myself once, when on a mission of grave importance back before you were born.”

“How?” Anima asked.

Odin smiled at her and leaned forwards. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that you can understand Yggdrasil completely – no one can – we are to it what the cells of our body are to us. The scholars study it nevertheless because that’s what scholars do. They say it is a tree because, to us, that is the form it takes that we can recognise. Certainly there are parts of it that behave like a tree. It has roots, physical roots, which I have seen with my own eyes. Its branches, however, lie within the planes of seidr, and the nine realms are like its organs, we provide it with _something_ \- we don’t know what – but the equivalent in us would be nutrients, and in turn it provides us with seidr and life. Our souls are given safe haven within the hidden realms, and we go on protecting it from threats both physical and magical.”

“We really are its immune system,” Anima said.

Odin nodded. “The gods are; that is what the scholars believe, and certainly that’s what seems to happen. When outsiders threaten Yggdrasil we defend it.”

“What about the war?”

“The Titan war is a perfect example.”

“No, the one with Jotunheim,” Anima said. “If we are all a part of one system, then why did we go to war?”

Odin sighed. “I wish I knew, but it was before my time. The only explanation I have is that sometimes, even in beings as great and powerful as Yggdrasil, things can go wrong. When we fight one another it’s like an illness got in, something made us turn. But wars between realms are very rare.”

“There have been two in recorded history,” Anima said.

“Exactly.”

“And they both involved Asgard.”

Odin looked at her seriously. “I feel as though there is something you want to ask me, but you aren’t quite sure how,” he said.

“Bragi told me that Asgard was younger than the other realms because it was created by a parasite,” Anima said. “He said that the parasite was still there, and that the prophesy of Ragnarok was of Asgard’s destruction – not the whole nine realms – because Yggdrasil would finally kill the parasite.”

“That is one theory, yes,” Odin said carefully.

“But if that’s true, then what if the reason we have wars is because Asgard is corrupted by the parasite?” Anima asked. “What if the prophesy exists because the Yggdrasil cannot rely on its immune system anymore, what if it has no choice but to destroy us?”

Odin breathed out slowly. “The prophesy states that Asgard can only be destroyed if the crown of Surtur is placed into the eternal flame, at which point he will grow from the flames as big as a mountain and lay waste to all. But that’s not going to happen. Surtur is content to stay in Muspelheim and rule his realm; the eternal flame is safely locked away in Asgard’s weapons’ vault. Ragnarok cannot occur, and the prophesy is just a story told by Bragi because it attracts him a decent-sized audience. Asgard is not in danger.”

Anima gave him a tight smile and turned to look out the window at the stars.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she said softly. “I’m worried that Asgard might _be_ the danger.”

But Odin had been distracted by the pilot saying something and didn’t hear her.

****

Nal pushed her shovel into the ground with a grunt of effort. She was digging a hole for the twinkle tree and it was quite hard-going.

“You could ask the gardeners to help you, you know?” Loki said from behind her.

“You could grab a shovel and help me without me having to ask?” she replied.

She dug out two more shovelfuls of earth in silence, and then found herself joined. Loki had donned a pair of gardening gloves and had located another shovel.

“So why is this one going in the light garden?” he asked, pushing his shovel into the dirt.

“It lights up at night; tiny pink and purple pinpoints of light all over the blossoms,” Nal said. “But I have to get it in soon because the season is about to change and it needs time to adjust to its new environment if I want it to flower next year.”

“How many gardens do you have?” Loki asked her, digging up another shovelful of earth.

“Seven. The Light Garden, the Death Garden, the Rose Garden, the Food Garden, the Night Garden, the Climbing Garden and the Medicinal Garden,” Nal said.

“Do you still weed them?” Loki asked.

“I weed all the newer plants across all of them. I put them in after all and I study their progress, so I should do the weeding,” Nal said. “The gardeners do the rest. There are too many gardens for me to do everything.”

“You couldn’t live without a garden, could you?” Loki asked.

Nal shook her head. “All I want in life is to live surrounded by plants, with flowers growing up the walls of my home, and fruit trees spread out all around instead of in those stupid rows the farmers use,” she said. “I know it’s easier to harvest but I’m convinced the trees don’t like it.”

Loki had paused in his digging and was instead looking up at the tower where Nal slept. “You’ll never get any vines to grow that high,” he said.

Nal shrugged. “One day I won’t sleep there. I’ll build a cottage for myself somewhere out there,” – she gestured vaguely off towards the mountains of Asgard – “and live surrounded by my plants.”

Loki chuckled. “A cottage? For a princess?”

Nal climbed out of the hole and leaned against the tree. “I’m not stupid, I know that a cottage sounds romantic and fun but is actually just a room or two made of earth and straw, but _my_ cottage, when I build it, will be well planned out and have running water. Just because it’s small doesn’t mean it has to be primitive.”

Loki climbed out of the hole and regarded it thoughtfully.

“That bit right there is the bit I dug,” he said, pointing. “It’s very neat, which is how you can tell. I’m the God of Digging after all.”

“Can you also be the God of Lifting? This things is heavy and I need it to be _in_ the hole now,” Nal said.

He turned and helped her move the tree into the hole.

“Will it be alright?” he asked. “It’s quite a big tree. I may not know a lot about planting but I’m pretty sure the bigger the tree the harder it is to transplant it successfully.”

“I will do everything I’m supposed to in order to give it the best chance,” Nal said.

She picked up her shovel and began back-filling the earth around the tree. Loki sighed dramatically and started to help her.

“So this cottage,” he asked as he shovelled, “where are you planning to put it?”

“In a valley, with a stream running through the middle, and high hills on all sides to protect it. I’ll find somewhere one day,” Nal said.

“King Bor might choose to marry you off to some prince,” Loki said.

“Then I’ll build a cottage in someone else’s realm,” Nal said.

“What if it’s a Jotun king?” Loki asked her.

“Then I’ll run away to the mountains and you will have to visit in secret and bring me seeds,” Nal said, smiling.

Loki grinned. “Good. You don’t belong on a world of ice.”

“From the way my grandmother tells it, neither do you,” Nal said.

Loki gave a theatrical stretch. “True, true, I was born to live in Asgard, which is the home of the gods after all.”

“And what are you the god of?” Nal asked, “truly?”

Loki looked her straight in the eyes and smiled a wicked smile. “Whatever I want,” he said.

****

The planet was grey in colour and made Anima want to pout. Her first time leaving the nine realms and the place she was going to looked boring and dull.

They landed at a trading hub and stepped out onto the landing pad, where they were greeted by a tall being with bright orange skin and long grey robes.

“Welcome to Mazar,” he said. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure,” Odin said, “we are here to visit the rejuvenation spas.”

The being bowed and smiled. “Of course, there are none finer. Shall I arrange transport for you and your partner?”

“Daughter, and yes, thank you,” Odin said.

They took a ground transport through the city and out into the countryside beyond. It was only then that Anima realised that the reason the planet looked so grey from the air was because the plants were all silver.

“They’re much prettier when you get closer to them,” she said.

“If there’s time I was thinking of buying a few seeds or seedlings for Nal, do you think she’d like that?” Odin asked.

“Definitely,” Anima said.

The transport delivered them to what looked like a large estate, and Odin led them inside to check in.

“Are we staying here long?” Anima asked him.

“I was hoping to stay about a week,” Odin said. “After three weeks in that ship I think we’d all be grateful for the break, plus I need time to arrange a meeting with our expert.”

The clerk who checked them in summoned someone to show them to their rooms.

“Will you be partaking of any of the facilities while you are here?” they asked.

“Yes,” Odin said, turning to look over his shoulder at the pilot and the guard. “Three activities each, but nothing that involves skin rejuvenation.”

“What’s that?” Anima asked, looking at a brochure on the desk.

“It literally peels the skin off, cleans it and returns it. They have the technology to keep you alive but it’s a horrifying treatment if you aren’t from a species that typically sheds skin. It also causes you to be unable to leave for the entire length of the treatment, even if something comes up.”

“Ew,” Anima said under her breath.

“But they do have a number of other activities that are more suitable to species like our- ah, like both of ours,” Odin said.

“So I see,” Anima said, scanning a new brochure.

They were shown up to their rooms and left to unpack and unwind. Anima did both, having a drink and putting her things in the cupboards supplied before having a look at her options for the spa.

“Hmm… do I really want a massage from someone who doesn’t know what human anatomy looks like?” she mused. “Maybe they scan you first so that they know what areas not to press on?”

There was a knock on her door and she opened it. Odin was standing there.

“I’m going for a walk through their gardens, do you want to come and stretch your legs?” he asked.

“Do they have any markets here?” Anima asked, “and did you being anything that we can use as money, because I forgot to pack any.”

Odin smiled and reached into his pocket. “I did remember; would you prefer to go shopping?”

“I love to go shopping,” Anima said, stepping out of her room. “Particularly if they have any crystals or stones I can set magic into.”

“Loki says you are more capable at magic than you show,” Odin said as they set off.

“Give me enough time and I can do anything that you want,” Anima said.

“That’s quite the boast,” Odin said.

“It’s not boasting if it’s true,” Anima replied. “Well, actually, it _can_ be, in fact I think it has to be, otherwise you aren’t boasting you’re just lying.”

Odin started chuckling. “I don’t think it counts as boasting if the other person asked you for an accurate assessment of your skills,” he said.

“Good, because I’m not lying, I haven’t found a single spell yet that I can’t cast, given enough time,” Anima said.

They headed out of the spa and caught another transport back into the city and to one of the markets.

“You lied to the man at the landing pad,” Anima said once they were wandering through the crowds.

“Not true, we are not here on business as they consider the term. We want information, not trade or money,” Odin said. “And on that subject I have already sent the man a communication asking for a time to meet. I sent it from the ship as soon as we touched down. I’m hoping to hear back from him soon.”

Anima nodded and looked around her at the displays. “Those are pretty,” she said, catching sight of a pair of green-coloured earrings.

“Very, what are they made of? Gaspeite?” Odin asked.

“Yes Sir, you know your minerals,” the seller said, leaning forwards to take out the earrings and put them on the display stand. “Have a closer look, they are very fine, made by hand by a local jeweller.”

“I prefer malachite in terms of colour,” Odin said, “but I wouldn’t be wearing them, Anima? Do you like them?”

Anima examined them closely. “I like the style very much, but I’d prefer it in Seraphinite, that holds more complex spell work because of its structure.”

“Oh, you are a spell caster?” the seller asked, leaning back slightly.

Anima was not used to the new environment, and so she did not see the subtle gesture he made to someone else, but Odin’s sharp eyes caught it and he smiled. 

“Oh yes, we are both sorcerers,” he said. “With all that that entails.”

The seller got the message, whoever he had signalled to would leave them alone. Sorcerers weren’t worth the trouble of robbing; they had a tendency to protect their money with more than just thick leather.

Anima wandered through the market unaware of the way information about her and Odin travelled from mouth to mouth, pickpocket to pickpocket, and so she had a fantastic time shopping. Odin chose not to tell her anything; he didn’t want to spoil her time.

They arrived back at the spa in time for dinner and collapsed into the plush chairs in Odin’s room with identical sighs of relief.

“My feet hurt,” Anima said cheerfully.

“I’m not certain, but I _think_ the last time I walked that far solely for the purposes of buying things, Hela hadn’t even been born yet,” Odin said. “Does this place do foot massages?”

“Yes, I read it in a brochure,” Anima said.

“Good.”

There was a beep on Odin’s communicator. He pulled it out and checked it.

“The expert wants to meet us tomorrow, just before lunchtime,” he said.

“Are you sure he’ll know what the tesseract is?” Anima asked.

“Not completely certain, no, but he’s got a reputation good enough that there’s a good chance,” Odin said. “I’m ordering a foot massage, the pain between my toes is ridiculous.”

“I hope he can identify it, and I hope he tell you it’s nice and safe,” Anima said.

“I hope so too, given how often you have used it,” Odin said, giving her a look.

“You never ordered me to stop visiting Midgard,” Anima pointed out.

“No,” Odin said, fighting an indulgent smile. “How could I with no evidence of trouble? Besides, I hate seeing you disappointed.”

****

The next day Odin, Anima and their guard they caught a transport into the city and headed to the expert’s address. It was a museum of some kind, although other than advertising ‘wonders’ it didn’t go into what it actually contained.

“Stay close to me when we’re in there,” Odin said. “I’ve heard rumours that this man can be less than polite if he decides that he wants something.”

“Do you think he’ll try to take the tesseract?” Anima asked, putting her hand into her bag and feeling the edges of it to reassure herself.

“Maybe, but hopefully not,” Odin said.

They walked in through the doorway and into a gloomy foyer. Dark wooden accents were everywhere, contrasting sharply with the grey of the outside.

There were several display cases showing off what looked like statues of people. There were a lot of different kinds represented. Anima scanned each one carefully. There was something incredibly creepy about how real they looked.

A young woman with the bright orange skin of a local stepped out from one of the rear doors. “Welcome to my master’s museum, are you here to observe the collection or do you have an appointment?” she asked.

“We have an appointment,” Odin said. “Odin Borson and his daughter, Anima.”

She nodded and disappeared into the back again.

“You left off the titles,” Anima said softly.

“Titles aren’t always helpful,” Odin said, “especially when dealing with the unknown.”

The woman reappeared. “Please follow me,” she said.

She led them through the rear door. On the other side was a hall filled with displays of all kinds of items. Anima could sense the magic radiating off a lot of them.

“I present to you Taneleer Tivan, the Collector,” the woman intoned grandly as a man with bright white hair and a very expensive coat stepped out of the shadows.

“Odin Borson, Prince of Asgard, God of War,” he intoned, staring at Odin intently, “and… the mortal one, An-i-ma.”

He dragged her name out slowly, like he was tasting it on his tongue. Anima held his gaze and tried to look calm, but there was something horribly unsettling about the man.

“We have brought an item which we wish to know more about,” Odin said, sounding unfazed. “I have heard that you are an expert on many things.”

“I have had a lot of time to become so,” the Collector said, still staring at Anima. “Please, my dear, a demonstration. I have heard that you are talented in magic far beyond most sorcerers. Will you indulge me and show me your skill?”

Anima glanced at Odin who stepped in front of her. “Maybe afterwards,” he said firmly.

If the Collector was annoyed he did not show it, instead he gestured to the bench behind him. “Please,” he said, “show me what you have.”

Anima pulled out the tesseract and set it on the table. The room was lit with a faint blue glow.

The Collector gasped and leaned in closely. “An Infinity Stone!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get it?”

“What is an Infinity Stone?” Odin asked. “Is it dangerous?”

The Collector activated a mechanism on his table and mechanical arms came out and started prodding at key places on the tesseract’s surface.

“Oh yes, they all are. Infinity stones were forged by the creation of the universe; they each contain infinite power but in different and exciting ways. In theory, if one were to hold all six infinity stones at once, then one would be able to destroy and rebuild the universe in any way they pleased,” the Collector said as his table worked away.

Odin looked down at the tesseract in alarm. “Anima was using it to travel to Midgard and back,” he said.

“Travel? Yes, that makes sense. I believe that this stone is the Space Stone. With it you can move anyone or anything through any length of space across the whole univer- wait, _your mortal daughter was using it?!_ Alone?! Without protection?!”

Without a sound the tesseract opened, revealing a glowing blue stone. 

“What kind of protection do I need?” Anima asked him, looking at it closely.

“The tesseract itself is a kind of protection,” the Collector said, “But even with it a mortal should be too fragile to wield it. You would have to put the tesseract into some kind of device to operate it for you, you shouldn’t even have been able to hold it! _How were you holding it?!_

Anima shrugged. “No one told me I wasn’t supposed to,” she said.

“So this thing is powerful enough to move an entire army across the galaxy and allow it to arrive at any place at all?” Odin asked, looking worried.

“In theory, it could also move whole planets to a different part of space, or a sun to the other side of the universe. This thing is an incredibly powerful artefact,” the Collector said. “And I will pay you handsomely for it, right now.”

“No,” Odin and Anima said together.

“It can stay on Asgard where we can keep watch over it,” Odin said.

“It’s mine, Uncle Loki gave it to me,” Anima said.

“I don’t plan on letting anyone use it you know,” the Collector said. “All of my collections are to keep for eternity, all the items, all the plants, all the people.”

Anima glanced sideways at what she had assumed was another statue; there was a reason it looked so real.

“They’re all real people?” she asked, horrified.

“Perfectly preserved in stasis; most are dead, and promised me their bodies once their lives had ended, but others are alive, and remain frozen for my enjoyment. I do like oddities, my dear, I like to keep them… close.”

He was watching her intently, as though he had forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

Odin coughed to get his attention.

“Thank you for the information,” he said. “How many other infinity stones are there?”

“Five more. Space, Time, Reality, Mind, Soul and Power,” the Collector said.

“Power? Just… raw power?” Anima asked.

“Oh yes, there’s a lot you can do with raw power,” the Collector said, still staring at her. “That is, if you can hold it.”

Anima looked down at the naked stone. She could see the power of it being generated and released in an endless feedback loop.

Without a word of warning she reached out and picked it up.

Odin cried out in alarm; the Collector ducked down to the floor as quickly as he could. 

Anime just stood there, holding it between two fingers without any sign of effort.

“I think I can handle it,” she said, putting the stone back into the tesseract and holding her other hand out over it.

After a few minutes in which nothing appeared to happen, long enough for the Collector to pick himself up off the floor and shoot a questioning glance at Odin, who ignored him, the tesseract closed itself back up.

Anima smiled and picked it up. “There, all safely away again,” she said.

“My dear, my _dear_ , how are you doing that? I did not see any magical bleed-off at all!” the Collector said.

Odin blinked in surprise as he realised the Collector was right.

“How… did you just do that?” he asked her.

Anima shrugged. “I keep telling you magic is just numbers, and I’m good at numbers,” she said. “But now, Father, I think we should go.”

Odin nodded. “Thank you for your time, Tivan, we appreciate the information.”

They turned and left the Collector behind them. 

“I’ll give you your weight in diamonds if you let me have your body after you die!” he called out to Anima, but she ignored him and kept walking.

They stepped out into the sun and let the tension leave their shoulders.

“What a strange man,” Anima said.

“Very, I intend to find out more about him. Now that he knows we have an infinity stone perhaps he will try to take it,” Odin said. “Or then again, perhaps he is not the stealing kind. How did you manage to hold it?”

“I didn’t. I used magic to create a shield between me and it, like the tesseract only stronger. I can’t touch that thing barehanded, you felt how much power it had.”

“I did, and that’s why I want the tesseract to be placed in Asgard’s weapons vault from now on.” Odin said.

“What? Father, no, it’s mine, and nothing has happened to it up in my room so far,” Anima protested.

Odin turned to look at her with serious eyes. “Anima, this thing is more powerful than anything on Asgard. It sounds like it is more powerful than Yggdrasil itself. I cannot, in good conscience, let you keep it in your bedroom.” 

Anima sighed heavily. “Alright, but can I keep using it to visit Midgard? It’s made to move things around, it has to be safe to use it for that.”

Odin was already shaking his head. “What if someone lay in wait for you on Midgard?” he asked. “What if you got hurt because someone wanted this badly enough? You can’t use it anymore.”

“But I can’t travel to Midgard any other way,” Anima said. “King Bor has banned travelling there so I can’t use the Bifrost.”

“If your king has banned you travelling there, then maybe it’s time to obey him,” Odin said. “I’m sure going to Midgard was a lot of fun, but you have a life on Asgard that’s more important.”

“But-“ Anima started to say.

“I have made up my mind,” Odin said. “As soon as we get back I will report our findings to King Bor and he will agree with me that the tesseract must go into the vault.”

Anima looked down in disappointment. “Yes Father,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GoofyGoldenGirl has made a playlist of songs for this fic! It is extremely awesome and I urge you all to check it out, provided you want to, of course.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7IdTRKm312rxQU1ldvGRoU?si=KD1X2kmWT8Ou0NQEFhFSGQ
> 
> Thank you so much GoofyGoldenGirl for the songs. :)


	35. The Passing of Time

**Eleven years until the Convergence**

In the year following Odin and Anima’s return and the subsequent relocation of the tesseract to the weapon’s vault, life on Asgard fell into a routine of general peace. 

In the Autumn, Hela tried to fell a tree onto Loki’s head, only to find him pop up between the branches, eating a plum. This was all the more infuriating because the tree she’d toppled into him had been an oak.

Daianya began to learn how to fight from the back of a Pegasus, and began beating Tyr in training roughly as often as she lost. He did not take it well, becoming more and more frustrated and more and more brutal towards the other trainees, to the point Daianya had to take it to Solveig for intervention.

Tyr returned to training the following week in a subdued mood. Apparently his father had spoken to him, and he mumbled an apology to the three other girls while avoiding eye contact with Daianya.

In the winter the entire family went to the mountains to visit Vili, Bor and Bestla’s second son up at the mountain stronghold. Anima especially was enchanted by the enormous doors carved with the image of Yggdrasil. They went skiing and ice-skating, and Nal practiced shaping ice under the encouraging eye of Bestla. By the time they left she could turn rough ground into something as smooth as glass after only a few minutes of effort.

In the spring, the twinkle tree bloomed for the first time, and Nal stayed out all night beneath its pink and purple lights. She fell asleep against its trunk and woke up with a blanket from Loki’s rooms draped over her.

In summer, Anima begged her father to be allowed to visit Midgard, but Odin held firm and refused to release the tesseract to her, not even if she took guards. 

“It’s not safe,” he said.

“Let me use the Bifrost then,” Anima begged. “I haven’t seen my friends in almost a year.”

“A year’s not such a long time,” Odin said, already walking away, his mind on realm matters of state.

“It is to me,” Anima said sadly to his retreating back.

****

“Why don’t you just go anyway?” Loki asked her later that day as she was complaining about Odin’s decision.

They were sitting on the railing of a balcony overlooking one of the gardens. The drop below them was almost fifty stories high.

“Do you have any idea how much security is on the weapon’s vault?” Anima asked him.

“Yes,” Loki said, but declined to elaborate. “But I wasn’t talking about using the tesseract; I was talking about you just going, by yourself.”

“I don’t have that kind of magic,” Anima said.

“You know the spell don’t you? The rest is just energy,” Loki said, swinging his legs back and forth.

“Energy I can’t summon, not in that amount,” Anima said.

“What makes you say that? Have you ever tried?” Loki asked her.

“No one can summon that amount of energy, no sorcerer in the whole of Asgard, or Vanaheim, or anywhere! The tesseract is special precisely because what it allows someone to do is so extraordinary.”

Loki shrugged. “I’m not that impressed, to be honest. I mean, yeah it’s great and all, but it’s still a rock. I can’t honestly say I’ve ever been impressed by a rock, of any kind.”

“It’s an Infinity Stone. Father had been researching them ever since he found out. They are impressive rocks, Uncle Loki, far more powerful than any sorcerer,” Anima said.

“How about a god?” Loki suggested.

“You could wield it, _probably_ bare-handed if you really, really needed to, but it would still hurt,” Anima said.

“I _meant_ that a god of say… magic? Might be more powerful than a run-of-the-mill sorcerer,” Loki said, giving her a pointed look.

“I am not a goddess, Uncle, that’s just propaganda, it always has been,” Anima said. “And I’m just fine with that. I accept who I am and my place in Yggdrasil. I’ve made peace with it.”

“If you truly accepted who you were then you would not hold back your power the way you do,” Loki said. “You are strong, Pup-ah-Ani, stronger than anyone other than me realises.”

Anima gave him a smile. “You can call me Puppy if you want to,” she said.

“I can?”

“I don’t hate it when you say it, not anymore. They do see me as a pet, even Father indulges _most_ of my requests. They do it because they don’t know how to treat a novelty like me.”

“They should treat you with respect, deference, and a tiny amount of fear,” Loki said.

“You don’t.”

“I don’t treat _anyone_ like that, you’re special, Puppy, but not _that_ special.”

Anima laughed. “I’m just me.”

“Well, just you, if you want to see that boy in person again then you are going to have to learn to use the power Yggdrasil gave you. You have to get over your fear of calling on too much power,” Loki said. “Do you still talk to him?”

“Every couple of days, but it’s not that easy,” Anima insisted. “I have such a limited amount of time. I’ve accepted it, but that doesn’t mean I want to reduce it, not even by a second. How can I find my limit without accidently crossing it? I don’t know what it feels like to burn up my lifeforce, what if I do it by accident?”

“It hurts,” Loki said softly.

“What?”

“It hurts, for a mortal to burn. Every time I saw one do it they screamed.”

Anima turned away from him. “I’m not sure I wanted to know that,” she said.

“I was buried underneath a pile of Titan warriors all trying to rip my limbs off when the weapon was fired,” Loki said.

He didn’t have to say which weapon. In Asgard there was only one weapon powerful enough not to need a name.

“She saved everyone,” Anima said. “But if what you say is correct, she died screaming.”

“She gave her life for Asgard,” Loki said, “for the people.”

“What if it happens again?” Anima asked. “They never found the weapon.”

“I did,” Loki said.

“What?!”

“Not during the war, but afterwards, and then I stole it and gave it to the one person who I knew could handle it. Pity her father decided to take an interest and do some actual research.”

Anima stared at him with wide eyes and an equally wide mouth. “The tesseract was the weapon?” she exclaimed.

“As near as I can tell,” Loki said. “Big blue light blinding everyone around, massive amount of energy all reaching up to the same place woven within a spell designed to make it all scatter into not-the-same-place. Plus I nicked it off a Titan who _somehow_ managed to get past the blockade. Yeah, I reckon I found it.”

“They say the power was so great that when she channelled it down through Yggdrasil, it bloomed,” Anima said.

“Nah,” Loki said dismissively. “All the plants on all the realms bloomed, but Yggdrasil itself? No. Wrong time of the year.”

Despite herself, Anima started laughing. “And when is the right time of the year for Yggdrasil to bloom?” she asked him.

Loki shrugged. “Who knows? I’ve never really gotten the hang of the cosmic calendar,” he said.

Without warning, a stone from above them came loose and fell down, knocking Loki in the back of the head and throwing him off the balcony. He went tumbling down the dizzying height as Anima screamed in shock and fear.

She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to focus on the destination below her. Numbers, numbers, string of numbers, the right numbers – 

She reappeared at ground level in a flash of magic. Her panic betrayed her slightly as the magic had a tinge of blue colour about it, but she didn’t even notice the bleed of power as she frantically tried to see Loki’s body through the bushes.

“Well that was unfortunate,” Loki said, his head popping up from within the branches.

“You’re okay?” Anima asked him.

“I’ve fallen from worse,” Loki said. “My best effort was out of a Titan spaceship into the upper atmosphere of Ligorth. Fell for four straight minutes, which doesn’t sound like long but most falls only last a few seconds, as you would know. Four minutes was long enough to _really_ think about things, which is why when I got back to Asgard I finally threw out my old pillow. I’d been holding on to it for sentimental reasons, but after a four minute freefall and a landing hard enough to leave a Loki-crater three feet deep into solid rock, I realised that what I actually wanting in life was a softer pillow.”

Anima breathed out. “I honestly thought you’d been killed,” she said, as the adrenaline ran through her system. 

Loki shrugged. “Nah, if I died I’d have to go to Valhalla, and given how bloody annoying I am I’m reasonably certain that they wouldn’t take me.”

“I don’t think they get to choose,” Anima said.

Loki looked back up the way he had fallen. “Maybe not,” he said, “but there’s nothing stopping them from making me sit outside the doors for all eternity, and that sounds _really_ boring.”

Anima shrugged. “If _I_ were the one being made to sit outside the doors of Valhalla for all eternity, I’d knock them down,” she said.

Loki turned and looked at her with grin that was a mixture of pride and pure evil delight. “Really?”

“They can’t lock you out if they don’t have doors,” Anima said practically. “But promise me you won’t go too soon. I like having you here, even if you are annoying to everyone else.”

Loki climbed awkwardly out of the bush. “I promise I won’t leave Asgard before you do,” he said.

He glanced up at the tower again. “I’m going to go and have a talk with the maintenance builders,” he said. “See you later, Puppy.”

****

Malekith was annoyed. Partly with his scientists who were struggling to advance the weapons technology as much as he wanted, partly with the fools on his so-called council for continually bringing up the possibility of furthering trade with Asgard, but mostly with himself.

Four years ago he had been offered the hand in marriage of Nal Odinsdottir, and he had spurned the offer in a fit of offended pride.

He’d been a fool. Ever since then relations with Asgard had been almost non-existent. He had no way of knowing what they were up to, what the strength of their army was, anything.

If he’d agreed to the marriage he would have been expected to visit her regularly. He could have done his own reconnaissance. Even if the marriage had actually taken place he could have played the part of a good husband and taken her to visit every year. Who cared that she was Jotun when good intelligence was on the table.

But no, he had let his temper get the better of him and now he was paying the price. His spies could only gleam so much, especially under the harsh light of the Asgardian sun. He should have accepted her. He knew how to be sly and clever; he could have maintained the illusion that he had grown to care for her. He could even have taken her to bed if he really had to.

Probably.

Then again, a Jotun would probably hate a dark elf husband as much as he hated the thought of a Jotun wife. It may have been possible to turn her to his cause if she felt slighted badly enough by her grandfather.

But all those musings were for naught. Malekith had made a tactical error and he had to live with the result. At least it had taught him not to be hasty in anger. His army was strong now, strong enough, he felt, to hold off the Asgardian army in the event of an attack. But now was not the time to deploy. The convergence would supply the opportunity to, not just destroy Bor’s army, but his entire realm. All Malekith needed was a weapon powerful enough to do the job.

He had sent out scouts to every planet across the galaxy with an advanced civilization on it, looking for anything that might be able to match the power of the Titan weapon of old.

Unlike many others, Malekith knew exactly how Asgard had survived last time, and he knew that they wouldn’t be able to do it again.

****

Grundroth, King of Jotunheim, stood at the window of his palace and watched the march of men approaching from the north.

A woman had died; Morath of the Low Valley had been laid out on the glacier nearest her stronghold and now her sons had abandoned the home they had known and were coming to join his court.

Morath’s granddaughter, a woman named Killiar, would be moving from her mother’s stronghold into the area vacated by Morath shortly. She was fully grown, with about twenty sons, which was enough to provide security while she birthed her queendom. 

No doubt a large number of men would march north in the hope that she would accept their code, or maybe even themselves, if they found a way to convince her to let them stay.

Grundroth considered going himself. Perhaps in time he would do so but, unlike other times a new woman established herself, his thoughts were on other things.

The smelting plant was fully operational and Asgard was buying large quantities of Jotunheim steel every month. Grundroth was now one of the wealthiest kings in the history of Jotunheim.

But would it be good enough? His spies in Asgard reported that King Bor was keeping his end of the bargain, and had not considered any other offers for Nal. He had received some though. A few Lords with heirs the right age were prepared to accept a Jotun in the family in exchange for being a step closer to the Asgardian throne.

Reportedly the King of Vanaheim had requested a potential match between Daianya and his son, but for some reason Bor was reluctant to accept.

Grundroth turned away from the window and picked up the latest report. Bor’s reluctance to let his second daughter leave Asgard was being speculated on more and more as the years passed by members of the Asgardian court. Normally Grundroth wouldn’t care about something as bizarre as marriage gossip, but his choice to try and enter the whole game meant that he had to pay closer attention to the players.

The private speculations of the more senior lords pointed to Hela as the reason. Apparently she was unstable, a fact which everyone seemed to be able to see other than Hela herself. Bor had not yet removed her from the line of succession, but everyone seemed to think it was only a matter of time.

Grundroth had no opinion. Hela could have Asgard and run it into the ground as much as she liked as far as he was concerned, what mattered was that Nal leave before she did so. If Hela’s instability caused harm to come to a Jotun woman… 

Jotunheim rarely went to war, but the men, _all_ the men, would defend a woman to the death. Nal was, in Grundroth’s opinion, not properly protected in Asgard. She had no strong sons to guard her, she had no assassin sons to watch over her, she had no one but the Asgardian guards, which didn’t count.

She also had Loki of Utgard, which was of some comfort at least. He was an absolute butt-pain of a person to deal with, but he was clever and wily and annoyingly courageous. Grundroth remembered what he had been like all those years ago when they were children, and he knew that he could rely on Loki to protect Nal from the threats King Bor couldn’t see, like her unstable sister.

But would it be enough? 

Grundroth sighed and turned back to the window. The death of a woman was always a sad time, and with Morath’s youngest sons all still being fit and strong there was a chance one of them would try to become his heir.

The corner of Grundroth’s mouth turned up at the thought. ‘Let them try,’ he thought to himself. ‘Let them face the king’s challenge and emerge as my heir. Let them carry the sign of a king.’

He reached out a hand and the ice beneath his fingers rapidly shifted, not into the rough and jagged shapes that his fellow men created, but into the clear, smooth, and delicate shape of a flower in a vase. Each petal as thin as the real thing; each leaf marked with veins in white against the clear ice.

The reports said that Nal liked flowers, so Grundroth supposed he had better practice. 

****

Loki wandered down to the executioner’s office and knocked on Hela’s door.

“Come in,” she called out.

He pushed open the door and sauntered in, ignoring the look of annoyance on her face when she realised who he was.

“I’ve come to talk,” he said, perching on her desk and looking down at her.

Hela scowled. “I don’t want to talk,” she said, rising and heading for the door.

“And have I _ever_ let something like that stop me? No. So I’m going to talk, and you are going to listen, because if you don’t I’m going to tell you father all about the six? No, seven attempts to kill me this past year,” Loki said. 

Hela shrugged. “You have no proof,” she said, but she didn’t leave.

“You have no idea what I have,” Loki said. “This has been a fun diversion for me so far – ”

“Fun?!” spluttered Hela.

“ – and I have no objection to you continuing if you so please, because frankly I think you need someone to focus your need to kill onto and I have no objection to being that someone. But today you almost hit Anima, and that’s not okay.”

Hela smiled evilly. “Oh, you don’t want poor Anima hurt?” she said. “Now why would you tell me something like that?”

Loki rose from the desk and walked over until they were standing a few inches apart.

“Because I am not the only person who cares about her safety and happiness,” he said. “Do you _really_ believe that Odin will let you hurt his youngest child and walk away without consequences? Do you think Daianya’s calm demeanour will last if you strike Anima down? Do you think Nal won’t pick the worst, most painfully deadly plant in her death garden and slip it into everything you eat until she gets you?”

Hela stepped back with a sneer. “You don’t understand,” she said. “You can’t kill death. I am not afraid of anything they can do to me.”

“I believe you,” Loki said seriously. “But know this, Hela of Asgard. If you hurt anyone, _anyone_ else in your pursuit of me, then I will not even try to kill you, no, I will bind you with magic and shove you in a seidr fold so deep that Yggdrasil will grow all around you. You will never be found, you will never escape, and for the rest of your existence you will be surrounded by the ever-present, unending, _unceasing_ life of Yggdrasil itself.”

He leaned in closer again, staring right into her uncertain eyes and nervous expression.

“Now, are you afraid of that, Hela darling?”


	36. The Death of a God

**Ten years until the Convergence**

“Berserkers are our greatest weapon,” General Hymir said to the senior class of Valkyries.

In the final year before becoming full members of the Valkyrie, the lessons were conducted by a variety of specialised teachers. Hymir taught on the subject of the army, and how the two distinct groups worked together to complement each other on the battlefield.

“When the berserkers lose control it is important that every warrior stay out of their way. Once the rage descends they will fight anyone and anything. Of course we want them to fight the enemy, but if the enemy is further away than a friend then the berserker will not be able to tell the difference.”

Daianya put her hand up; Hymir nodded at her to go ahead.

“Why not?” she asked, “Is it really so impossible to think through the rage?”

“Most berserkers do not even remember their greatest battles,” Hymir said. “So no, it is not possible for them to think through the rage when it descends upon them. To start to think is to cause the rage to die, and we don’t want it to, not in the middle of battle. Berserkers are completely invulnerable to all forms of physical attack and a large variety of magical ones. Their increased strength means that they can physically rip a man’s limbs off with their bare hands. A common method of killing someone for a berserker is to punch through the plate armour into the rib cage and to tear out the heart, either through the hole they just made or through the enemy’s back.”

The class took this news stoically. These were not green recruits, not anymore. They had all witnessed a battle and had done the clean up afterwards. Something as straightforward as ripping a heart out wasn’t going to faze them.

Another trainee raised her hand. 

“How do you know if you are a berserker or not?” she asked.

“They find out on the battlefield,” Hymir said. “According to the scholars, any Aesir or Asgardian _can_ become a berserker under the right conditions, but most do not. Most cannot surrender control over themselves so completely as to allow it. That is why most berserkers are warriors in the army.”

Daianya raised her hand again.

“So our job as Valkyrie will be to keep an eye on the berserkers from above and ensure none of the other warriors gets caught in their rampage?” she asked.

Hymir smiled and nodded, impressed.

“Exactly, the Valkyrie rarely fight directly in battle unless they have to, your main job has always been one of support. But do not think for one second that this means you will not use your weapons or be in danger. Valkyries do some of the most dangerous tasks in battle, and protecting and removing warriors from the path of a berserker is one of them. If you get it wrong you will find yourselves ripped apart by your own side. If your Pegasus gets shot out from beneath you then you will fall into the heart of battle. There is much that you need to be prepared for.”

“If the berserker is truly invulnerable, then why does anyone else bother fighting?” Daianya asked.

Hymir looked at her for a moment thoughtfully, and then said. “You tell me.”

Daianya thought about it. “Because if they are truly out of control, then someone has to herd them in order for them to be properly effective, if you needed to capture someone instead of kill them then you would need regular warriors to reach that person first, um… if you were liberating a village from attackers then you would need someone to stop the berserkers from attacking the very people they had been sent to save.”

Hymir nodded. “Well done,” he said. “I know that you have been training in tactical manoeuvres in the pegusi, and this is partly the reason. Warriors on the ground will try to herd the berserkers, but you will have to save people from them.”

“Are there anything like the berserkers out there in the armies of the other nine realms?” One trainee asked.

“No,” Hymir said. “Berserkers and their invulnerability are unique to Asgard.”

****

Malekith stood at the window and watched as the Kursed smashed their way through solid rock.

“You have strengthened the spell considerably, I see,” he said to the scientist beside him.

“Yes, my King, and these men are the old and the sick. They last as Kursed for only a few hours, a day at most. If the soldiers were to use it, their strength would keep them for much longer.”

“A battle tends not to last too long, if you do it right,” Malekith said. “But I can think of a few reasons why I’d need Kursed for a little bit longer. A full rampage through the cities of Asgard would take some time.”

“Once the army is destroyed we can take our time with the Asgardians,” Algrim said on his other side.

“The downside of the Kursed is how few stones you still have,” Malekith said. “I want you to start stockpiling them. You can still use up a few in order to conduct your experiments, but I want at least a thousand ready and waiting for the attack.”

“We need more than just the Kursed,” Algrim said. “Even with a thousand of them, the Asgardians can run and hide, and wait them out. Our regular soldiers need weapons capable of firing through Asgardian armour.”

Malekith nodded. “I have already thought of that,” he said. “I have begun stockpiling gold and other precious gems from the raids of nearby traders. When I have enough I will visit the Dwarves and commission the weapons we need.”

“Will they take the commission? Eitri is known for using his peoples’ skills to play at politics,” Algrim said. “If he suspects us of wanting to start a war he may turn down our request.”

“Eitri is a coward,” Malekith said dismissively, “although a talented one, I can’t deny. There are others in the galaxy capable of manufacturing what we need, but it will take far more time to purchase from them than to go through the Dwarves. At least the Dwarves can ship things using the Bifrost.”

“When will we be ready to visit them?” Algrim asked.

“I cannot be certain, the traders keep changing their routes to avoid us, but perhaps next year,” Malekith said. “There is still plenty of time before the convergence, do not be concerned.” 

****

Anima was in her bedroom studying one of the more complex healing spells from an ancient scroll when Daianya knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called out, looking up as Daianya pushed open the door and gave her a smile.

She’d come from her lessons, and clearly had training that afternoon because she was wearing her armour and attaching her sword belt around her waist as she walked in.

“How’s all that going?” Anima asked her, gesturing to the swords.

“Same as always, still learning new things, but the physical training has entered the final stages. We train directly with the Valkyrie now,” Daianya said. “This afternoon is one-on-one challenges. I don’t know who I’ll be fighting, but I hope they don’t kick my arse in the first twenty seconds.”

Anima grinned. “I hope I never get in a fight, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Swing the sharp thing at the other guy,” Daianya said.

“Thanks, I now know everything I need to,” Anima said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I was thinking about the spell you put on my helmet,” Daianya said. “It’s really hard to pull all this on quickly, so I was wondering whether it was possible to cast a spell that made it instantly appear on me. That way I can be ready for battle in a second.”

Anima shrugged. “Spells like that do exist. They have their downsides, of course. Without magic of your own you will have to cast the spell on an object, preferably a crystal or gemstone. So if you lose that object you also lose your ability to call your armour back out of the seidr fold it’s sitting in.”

“Can it not be called from the physical world and just relocated onto my body?” Daianya asked.

Anima thought about it. “Maaaybee?” she said. “I haven’t seen a spell like that before, but I might be able to write one based on past research. But why would you want to?”

Daianya shrugged, “I guess I’m a little nervous that if it disappears into a seidr pocket I’ll never see it again, especially if I lose the gemstone while it’s in there.”

“I understand. I can certainly do some research for you.”

Daianya smiled. “Thanks, I already live away from the barracks with no one to help me pull it all on. It slows me down in an emergency and I don’t want that.”

Anima drummed her fingers on the desk. “Has General Solveig mentioned your sleeping arrangements being a problem?” she asked.

“No, but part of being a squadron leader is seeing possible issues before they arise and dealing with them,” Daianya said.

Anima started laughing. “You haven’t even made it into the Valkyrie yet and already you are aiming for squadron leader?” 

“Of course,” Daianya said, grinning. “Always aim higher than you are, even if you don’t make it. It gives you something to do and leaves you with new skills.”

“How wise,” Anima said. “I’ll try to remember to find something to aim for.”

Daianya swatted at her arm and she pulled away laughing. 

“I’m going to training, thank you for looking into it for me,” she said, turning to leave. “Have you seen Nal?”

“She said she was going to the market for more seeds,” Anima said. “So I will probably be called on later to teleport home another tree.”

Daianya chuckled and rolled her eyes. “That woman was born to live among flowers,” she said.

****

Nal stared openly at the stall before her.

So. Many. Seeds.

It was a trader from somewhere past the Omega cluster, and he had brought with him a collection of plants and seeds from across the solar systems there. 

She read the description of one of them, bright pink flowers with a scent similar, but not quite like, honey and orange together. Another compartment had what promised to be an interesting vine with tiny suckers to help it climb up and stay against walls.

“What is this one like?” she asked, pointing at a seedling labelled ‘home’s shelter’.

“That one grows a massive tree, but its novelty is that it is as wide as it is tall,” the seller said. “The inhabitants of the world I obtained it from plant them specifically to use as houses, because the main trunk sits six to ten feet off the ground, supported by the roots on all sides which form nice thick walls.”

Nal forced a calm smile onto her face and tried to stop her hands from trembling.

“And how much would that one be?” she asked.

She never got an answer. Being bright blue in a world of varying shades of brown, Nal had grown used to being stared at and occasionally pointed towards. But the people knew she was a princess, and the granddaughter of King Bor, and so stares and points were really all she ever got.

But not today; a clay pot came sailing out of the crowd and hit her in the side of the head. Nal cried out and fell to her knees from the blow, as a man came angrily stomping out of the crowd.

“Jotun bitch,” he hissed, swinging a club in his other hand. “Jotun scum; you don’t belong here, go back to your world of ice and death, get out of my realm.”

Nal looked up at him in surprise. The guards who watched over the market were already running towards them, swords drawn.

“Father stop!” a young man called out. He tried to tackle the man but was thrown to the ground.

“You come here and take out land? You move in slowly like a creeping vine? I see right through you,” he spat at her. “Go back to where you belong.”

“I was born here,” Nal said. “I’ve never even seen Jotunheim.”

“Bullshit!” he yelled, and charged at her.

The guards were close now, and one of them leapt at him in an attempt to stop him, but was too far away. Nal jumped to the side and managed to duck his blow with the club, but ended up on the ground.

“Bitch!” he screamed, crawling on top of her and raising his arm up to punch her head.

Nal concentrated, and pushed the ever-present call of the cold through her arms and into her hands, but the man seemed not to notice as his shirt flaked away and his flesh began to burn.

His arm came swinging down, but it was arrested before it hit. Loki held the man’s wrist tightly, his expression gleeful.

“Hello good Sir, and how are we feeling today? Angry, pathetic and unloved? Sounds just about right, doesn’t it?” And he pushed the man back easily, throwing him into the arms of the market guards. As the man fell back, two burn marks in the shape of Nal’s hands were clearly visible on his chest.

“Father!” the youth screamed, and tried to reach him.

“Come along with us, boy, your father needs to be detained for his attack, you might as well come with us and answer some questions, or you can go and fetch someone who can speak to us about his arrest,” the guard said.

“Alright down there?” Loki asked Nal, who groaned and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“What just happened?” she asked.

“Not sure, but I intend to find out. It’s a little bit illegal to attack someone, more illegal to attack someone while they’re just doing their shopping, and extremely illegal to attack someone who is just doing their shopping while also being a princess of Asgard.”

“That’s rubbish,” Nal said.

“No, I checked the law books; it is absolutely illegal to attack someone while they are shopping, unless they’re buying papaya, in which case you take your chances. Why papaya? No idea, but it’s in there. You can go and check if you like, but we both know you won’t,” Loki answered.

“I’ll check just to spite you,” Nal said, climbing to her feet.

Loki hadn’t offered to help her up, which was odd because he normally never passed up an opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress. Then she noticed that he was not wearing gloves.

“I still want to buy those seeds,” she said, turning back to the seller, who was looking unsettled.

“I thought Asgard’s main market was a safe place,” he said as she returned to his stall.

“It is, normally,” Nal said. “I don’t know what that was.”

“I heard him yell about Jotnir buying up Asgardian land,” Loki said.

“Not that I know of, the only Jotun who owns land here is me, and I haven’t been buying it, I was given some and haven’t increased my holdings since,” Nal said.

“I wonder if that matters, to a man with such blind rage in him,” Loki said. “Are your crops doing particularly well? Maybe his aren’t and he’s feeling resentful.”

Nal made her purchases in a subdued manner. Despite the copious amounts of seed and several small plants that would normally leave her in a good mood, she no longer felt completely safe in the market. Suddenly the stares were harder to ignore.

“Whoa, this one is a doozy,” Loki said, holding a seedling carefully as its leaves brushed against his face.

“It’s called ‘home’s shelter’,” Nal said. “I’m going to put it in the field at the back of the palace, you know the bare patch with the little stream? I’m going to start a new garden there.”

“All I know is this is a fantastic plant,” Loki said. “I’m particularly fond of the coding for extreme growth in the trunk; that seems useful.”

Nal glanced across at him and her gaze fell to the exposed skin on the back of his hand.

“Don’t even think about it,” Loki said.

“Why not? What are you hiding?” Nal asked him. 

Loki whirled around suddenly, forcing her to stop walking to prevent walking into him. His face was inches from her's as he looked down and she up.

“Perfection,” he said. “Naturally.”

“Prove it,” Nal said.

Loki smiled in a mixture of amusement and pride, but he backed down and started walking again rather than rise to her challenge.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” he said cheerfully. “I’m the God of Not Having to Prove Anything to Anyone.”

“Of course you are,” Nal said. “What were you doing in the marketplace anyway?”

“Being the God of Protection,” Loki said as they walked back along the streets and through the gates of the palace.

****

Daianya sized up her opponent with narrowed eyes; tough, determined, highly skilled, this was not going to be an easy battle.

She circled around, looking for an opening. Her opponent did likewise, a knowing look on their face as they waited for her to attack. 

She made a feint, but her opponent did not rise to it. A second one didn’t draw her out either. Daianya could feel the frustration building in her. She was going to have to attack outright, which put her opponent in a position of advantage. They were an expert at defensive fighting. 

Teeth gritted, Daianya made her move, swinging her sword over her head she charged her opponent, who brought theirs up in a block. Daianya pulled her move at the last second and swung low with her other sword, almost catching them out, but her opponent swung down quickly and their weapons met with a clang. Daianya spun forwards, using her momentum to avoid being caught down low. She brought her other sword around and slashed at their legs but they were already waiting for it. Another blow came at their waist but they dodged, dancing from foot to foot with ease. Grunting from effort Daianya swung upwards, and caught their sword on the downswing. They locked blades, with Daianya having the disadvantage. She braced herself as her opponent put pressure on the blades, trying to force her to break.

Daianya held on stubbornly. If she could throw her opponent back then she’d have an opening, but it wasn’t easy. Her face was a grimace of effort and sweat was trickling down her face.

To her surprise, her opponent began to weaken. Their blade slowly inched upwards in response to Daianya’s effort. Daianya pushed harder, digging in deeply to find every bit of her strength.

Her opponent broke to the sound of gasps from the watching crowd of trainees, throwing their blade back over their head and backing up quickly to avoid having their exposed front slashed or stabbed. Daianya jabbed forwards, making a cut just under their ribcage. She followed it with a swing from her other sword and another from the first, trying to keep her opponent unbalanced. 

Her opponent managed to regain their feet and caught Daianya’s last swing, using the momentum to throw her off balance and into the dust. Daianya rolled quickly and brought her sword up, catching the down-swinging blade. She kicked out at her opponents legs and knocked them down to the sound of more gasps of disbelief. 

Both women scrambled to their feet and came together in a clash of swords. Daianya was in a better position that last time and she pushed her advantage quickly, but her opponent’s skill came to the fore and they swung their weight over, making Daianya fall again, this time harder and with her swords under her.

She rolled to the feel of a blade at her neck.

“Well done,” Commander Gunhild said. She was panting heavily. “You’ve come a long way in a very short space of time, and your training has finally made you stronger than me. I’ve been waiting for it, being Aesir you have a natural advantage in strength but without training it can be beaten by anyone willing to work hard.”

Daianya climbed to her feet. She was battered from falling on the hard ground but she felt good. Commander Gunhild only sparred with people she felt were able to give her a challenge. When she had asked Daianya that morning Daianya had been sure it was a mistake. Now she knew it hadn’t been. 

She was just reaching for her water when a messenger came running into the training yard.

“Your Grace,” he said, trying to catch his breath, “your Grace, you must come at once.”

“She is in training,” Gunhild started to say.

“Bragi is dying,” the messenger said, “all the gods must come.”

Daianya turned to look at Gunhild.

“Go,” she said. “This is gods’ work. Go.”

****

Bragi was lying on a hospital bed, breathing heavily and painfully, when Daianya arrived.

Tradition stated that when a god died of old age all of the other gods would wait with them and hear their final words. It was quite a rare event, given that the gods were charged with defending the realm to the best of their abilities, and as such dying in battle was a far more likely prospect.

But not Bragi, he had survived all the battles he had been a part of and as he grew older he had moved into retirement from a life of fighting to write poetry about love and beauty instead of sagas about war and death.

His decline had been hard to watch for those who had known him a long time. The girls had only seen him at the end of his life, and knew him more as a slightly sad and equally slight annoying figure who would repeat the same stories over and over again. Still, Daianya felt the sadness in the room the moment she had stepped inside.

“He knew all of our history,” Bor said quietly to Odin in the silence. “All that he witnessed, but also all that he learned.”

“He used to entertain my brothers and me for hours,” Odin replied. “We would get lost in his stories of adventure.”

Bragi moaned on the bed and everyone in the room turned to look at him.

“Idunn! Idunn! I can’t see you!” he called out, gasping for breath between each cry. “It’s all ending! All the stories! But they will be told again! The oldest story! It happened before; it will happen again!”

“Peace, Bragi, be at peace,” Bor said in as gentle a tone as he was capable of. “Your battles are won, you can go and be with Idunn again. Let go, man, and be at peace.”

Odin blinked hard to chase away the tears in his eyes. Anima reached over and took his hand to comfort him.

In the corner, Hela was lounging against the wall looking bored. She did not consider death by old age to be particularly interesting.

Loki was standing with Freya and Frey by the window; his face was the most serious Daianya had ever seen it.

The door opened quietly and Nal entered, followed by Bestla. Nal made eye contact with Daianya and gave her a nod of greeting, while Bestla moved to the far end of the room, so as not to crowd anyone.

“It happened before; it will happen again!” Bragi cried out, his voice tinged with pain. His eyes were focussed somewhere far away, and perhaps long ago. “The oldest story! But something comes! Something is wrong! The story is ending! It cannot end! Save it! Save it! Idunn! Where is Idunn?!”

“Hela, can you not do something? Can you not spare him this pain?” Odin asked.

Hela brightened up and pushed off from the wall. She made a hand movement and a small knife appeared in her grip.

Nal was in front of her in a heartbeat. “What are you doing?” she hissed angrily.

Hela made a motion towards Bragi indicating that it should be obvious what she was doing, but at a second glance at the other people in the room she rolled her eyes and made the knife disappear.

“You are broken,” Nal hissed at her.

Unseen by the others due to the disturbance caused by Hela, Daianya stepped forwards and took Bragi’s hand. She could see his soul struggling with his dying body, the natural process of freeing itself was being actively fought.

“The story must not end!” Bragi called out. “The story must continue! Yggdrasil’s story! It happened before; it will happen again! But the old players need not take the stage.”

That last sentence had been said at a whisper. Bragi was finally running out of energy to call out.

Daianya gave his hand a small squeeze and concentrated. The threads holding his soul were straining badly.

Her eyes started to glow and orange light crackled through her hair from curl to curl.

“Let go, Bragi,” she said in a voice that echoed with the sound of empty concert halls. “The last bow has been taken, the last note has been played. You can go, and be with Idunn again. Tell her all the stories she has missed not being at your side. It’s alright now. Let go.”

She moved her other hand in a gentle motion and, in her vision, the strands still holding his soul to his body snapped free. In the blink of an eye he was changed. No longer the bald, old man with blind eyes and a wrinkled face, his soul was young and vibrant. His hair was thick and wavy, and his eyes sparkled with charisma and charm. Daianya could see why he had been so captivating for so long. His smile, when he saw her looking, was broad and cheerful and utterly charming.

And then it was gone. Daianya could see it flying through the branches of Yggdrasil, buffeted back and forth by the forces of the spiritual plane, until it arrived at Valhalla’s gate, where another soul waited to greet him with open arms filled with love.

“He’s safe,” Daianya whispered, before she suddenly jolted back into the material plane with a gasp.

Bragi’s hand no longer gripped hers, it had fallen slack. His body was still, and his eyes wide and blanker even than his blindness had made them.

Daianya looked up to find Odin watching her from the other side of the bed. His face was one of pride. “That was a kindness,” he said, “thank you, Daianya, for easing his passing.”

Hela made a huffing sound from somewhere to her right, and the sound of the door being opened and shut soon followed.

“We’ll send him to the stars tomorrow night,” Bor said. “A thousand singers can attend him, and a thousand bards can tell the stories of his life.”

“It’s only fitting,” Odin said, “for such a great man.”

“He saved my life once,” Loki said. 

“Pity,” Bor mumbled.

“Right in the heart of battle, I was about to be crushed under a giant’s foot when the most ear-piercing sound I’ve ever heard hit it right in the ear and shattered its scull. He was a brave man and a warrior. Tell me, Daianya, did he go to Valhalla?”

Daianya nodded. “He’s there,” she said, with a small smile. “He was worthy, but then I don’t think there was much doubt of that.”

Bor nodded curtly. “Then I shall order the preparations to be made for a grand feast; Anima, can you make fireworks to show stories of his life appear in the air above the city?”

Anima bowed. “Yes, your Majesty,” she said.

“Good, every god should do something, there are precious few of us as there is,” Bor said. “Go and see to it.”

****

Bragi’s funeral lasted for seven days. It took that long for the bards to tell all of the sagas he had written and the singers to sing all of his songs. The last of them told stories of Bragi himself, of his prowess on the battlefield, of his sleepless nights composing his masterpieces, of his love for Idunn. The gods attended each and every performance, to show how he was one of them, and how much they honoured him.

On the seventh day, once the stories were finally done and last of the songs finally sung, Bragi’s body was sent out into the stars to join once again with the great cosmic being that was Yggdrasil. Daianya stood at her father’s side and watched it go. 

“That will be all of us one day,” she said.

Odin nodded. “As it must be; even gods eventually die.”

“I don’t want to go to the stars,” Anima said as they walked back to the palace. “I want to be buried on Midgard, on a cliff overlooking the sea.”

Odin shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it at all, for any of you,” he said. “Now let’s have dinner together, as a family, it’s been a long time since we did that.”

“Only because King Bor enjoys feasts so much,” Nal said. “But I suppose it has been seven days of feasting, even he can grow sick of it.” 

Bor did seem to be in a quiet and thoughtful mood at the dinner table, certainly not the kind of mood for feasting that he was known for. He sat sombrely and, while he ate his usual amount, his pace was far more sedate and his drinking restrained. His eyes kept moving from one person to another. First his gaze lingered on Hela, then moved to Odin and back again. Then it shifted from Daianya, to Nal, and then finally to Anima.

“There are a lot less gods than there used to be,” he said, into the quiet of the meal.

They all looked at him as Bestla said. “There have been ebbs and flows before. The time before the Jotnir-Asgardian war was not known for having many gods.”

“Still less now than then,” Bor said. 

“There will be more, I’m sure,” Odin said. “There are a lot of roles to fill.”

“Haven’t they all been filled before?” Anima asked.

Odin smiled. “It is possible for a second god to fill the same role, once the first has died. Yggdrsail grants us our roles and sometimes I suppose it has further need of them. Of course there are also still new ones, there was a Goddess of Ghosts once who could summon the dead and talk to them when she stood by their bodies, but Daianya is the first Goddess of Souls we have ever seen because her power extend to souls in all their aspects, and Hela is the first Goddess of Death because – ” 

“She kills people?” Nal interjected, looking sideway at Hela reproachfully.

“What did you want me to do?” Hela asked. “He was dying, I was going to make him die faster.”

“Not with a knife!” Nal snapped. “You were _supposed_ to ease his passing without pain. Or are you the only Goddess of Death who can’t kill people without a blade?”

“At least I _am_ a god, what are you again? A snowflake maker?” Hela snapped.

“That’s enough,” Bor said. “Hela _has_ killed people without a blade, and Hela? Don’t be so ignorant, you knew what we wanted and you chose to be difficult.”

Hela and Nal both scowled as Bor turned his attention back to his meal.

“You only killed one person without a blade and that was by accident,” Nal muttered to Hela. “When you were two and channelled Yggdrasil for the first time.”

“At least I _can_ channel Yggdrasil,” Hela hissed back. “You aren’t even a real god; you shouldn’t have been at Bragi’s death at all.”

Bor looked up; they both looked away from one another and turned back to their meals.

“Daianya, I was really proud of what you did,” Bor said. “You’re a credit to the family, and a credit to Asgard.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Daianya said, a little bit startled. Bor barely spoke to her on a regular day, and it was even rarer for him to praise anyone other than Odin.

“I want you to accompany your father to Vanaheim next month. It’s a routine sort of a visit, just strengthening ties and all that. Go along and see for yourself.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Daianya said. 

“Call me Grandfather,” Bor said, somewhat brusquely.

Daianya bowed her head as Hela looked between her and Bor with outrage on her face.

“Yes Grandfather,” Daianya said.


	37. Fear and Consequences

King Bor had flown into a fit of rage when word of the attack on Nal in the marketplace finally reached his office after Bragi’s funeral was over. He had demanded the man’s head immediately, which had excited Hela almost to the point of openly cheering, but Odin had managed, with a fair amount of difficulty, to convince him to hold a trial.

“He broke the law, we know that. But the people need to see that, otherwise they will think of us as tyrants,” he said.

“Tyrants have more fun,” Hela offered from behind him.

Odin made the face of a man who was extremely done with all the shit going on around him, but managed through the dint of sheer personal effort not to be side tracked by his oldest daughter.

“We must hold a trial so that the people can see,” he said. “That’s what the law says.”

“I wrote the bloody law, I can _unwrite_ it,” Bor said, but nevertheless he called a trial.

And so Nal found herself sitting in the courtroom, trying her hardest to appear meek and reasonably helpless in a deliberate attempt not to draw too much of the crowd’s attention.

She really wished that Bor had not insisted that she attend. He didn’t understand what is was like to stand out for the _wrong_ reasons. Always an oddity, Nal was now the focus of attention, and not everyone in the courtroom saw the princess before the Jotun.

The guards brought the man in and walked him to the accused’s chair. He looked across the courtroom and glared at her.

“Myran Fadinson, you have been arrested by the authority of the crown. You have denied legal assistance and wish to represent yourself,” Bor said. “Do you agree that this is correct?”

If Bor had not insisted that Nal attend, then the charge of ‘assaulting a princess of Asgard’ may well have put the crowd in mind of Daianya, who was undeniably _of Asgard_ in a way Nal would never be. Or perhaps they might think of Anima, who’s bubbly, cheerful and slightly childlike nature made them feel protective whenever she visited the city.

Perhaps they would even have thought of Hela, although her war record and the fact that she ran the executioners office meant that everyone knew she could take care of herself.

Instead, the man pulled open his shirt to show the two hand-marks Nal had left on his skin.

“Monster!” he shouted. “Scum!”

One of the guards slapped a muzzle on him, and Nal tried to sink down slightly in her seat.

“You will have your chance to speak,” Bor said curtly. “Until then, hold your tongue or it will be held for you.”

The man was still trying to talk through the gag, so Bor ignored him and gestured to the court official to begin reading the charges.

Somehow they had found seven of them to charge him with. Nal honestly would have preferred one; that way things would be over more quickly, but she did not get her wish. One by one the charges were read out.

“Assault with a Thrown Object, Assault with a Weapon, Bare-Handed Assault, Attacking a Member of the Royal Family, Slander, Causing a Disruption in the Marketplace, Lowering Asgard’s Reputation as a Safe Trading Realm,” the court official read.

King Bor looked over at the man. “Do you wish to confess to any of the charges or shall we proceed to evidence?” he asked.

The man’s gag was removed, and he immediately spat in Nal’s direction. The guard put the gag back on.

King Bor nodded to the official.

“I enter into evidence the guard’s report on the day of the incident,” the official said, holding up a piece of paper.

He read out the report. It was as Nal recollected it. She tried to keep her eyes and head down.

“I also enter this medical report submitted by the family of Myran Fadinson,” the official said. “In it he has been assessed as mentally unwell due to several incidents in his life. His father was killed in the Asgardian – Jotun war, his mother fell into depression and refused to care for him, he attempted to join the army but was unsuccessful after stating allowed that he only joined to kill Jotnir, not follow the will of his king, he then purchased land and grew mara beans for crop, but recently the price of mara beans has dropped in line with demand due to the rise in demand for Cacao beans, which Princess Nal grows on her lands. He has been suffering from severe stress and his family begs the mercy of the court.”

King Bor did not look particularly merciful.

“Call in my granddaughter,” he said.

For a second Nal was confuse, as she was already undeniably in the courtroom and sitting quite close to him as well, but as the doors opened she realised that he meant Daianya.

Daianya was dressed extremely well, especially considering her usual style. She must have asked Anima to help with her hair because it fell in large wavy curls instead of her usual birds-nest. She was wearing jewellery as well, and a small coronet, with stones in it to match the ones in King Bor’s crown.

It was deliberate, Nal realised. Daianya had been dressed to look the way most people imagined a princess would look. Nal on the other hand had deliberately dressed down for the court in order to seem as harmless as possible. 

No doubt if she had dressed up like that the people would think she was being haughty or proud.

Daianya walked down the centre of the room until she stood in front of King Bor, and then she bowed.

“This man stands accused of attacking a princess of Asgard,” Bor said. “His family claimed that he has been driven mad by the circumstances of his life. Granddaughter, Goddess of Souls, tell me if you see any of the damage they speak of.”

Daianya turned to look at the man, and her eyes began to glow. The crowd murmured to one another in excitement. It was not often that the ordinary people had the chance to see a god call upon Yggdrasil.

“There are a few minor tears,” she said. “Nothing too big, several scars here and there. No. He is not mad. The anger he holds onto is entirely within his control. He blames everyone else for the events of his life going wrong, but chooses to take nothing onto himself.”

The man twisted free of the guards holding his arms and ripped the gag off. “That blue bitch ruined my life! I’m in debt because of her! If my father had lived he would have brought spoils! It her fault, it’s all of their fault! They all need to be put in their place!”

“I sentence you to die,” Bor said. “Not all of your crimes are serious enough for death, but assaulting a princess because she looks like her grandmother, the woman who’s choice to come here is the reason we were able to make peace, is beyond mere labour or imprisonment. The other charges need no sentence, this one will suffice.”

The decision made, the guards pulled Myran Fadinson from the room. The whole time he was dragged away he screamed about how Nal was the reason his life was at a low point. Nal glanced at King Bor, she desperately wanted to leave.

“This case is over, enter the sentence in the record books and have Hela carry it out in three days. That way his family can have a chance to say their goodbyes,” Bor said.

He rose and left the room before anyone had the chance to bow properly.

With the king gone, Nal rose form her seat and left the room as quickly as she could. Bor may not have seen it, but Myran Fadinson hadn’t been the only man in that room shooting her looks of hatred.

 _I didn’t know you were coming,_ Nal though to Daianya.

_Father’s idea, apparently. He’s the one who came and told me to get ready. This dress is so uncomfortable! It’s got a waist support in it and it keeps sticking in!_

_Was his soul really intact?,_ Nal asked.

 _It was, frankly I was surprised, but one thing I learnt from my studies at the hospital, not every arsehole is a broken man looking to heal, some people really are pieces of shit,_ Daianya thought.

 _Unfortunately, I think the pieces of shit may have decided to make me a target,_ Nal thought.

 _Might I recommend goats?_ Anima interjected. _I find them a very effective deterrent._

_No, thank you,_ Nal thought. _I have another solution in mind._

****

Three days later, Hela sauntered out into the execution yard and watched in delight as Myran Fadinson was dragged to the block. 

His family had tearfully said their goodbyes earlier, and on the second day he appeared to have had a complete change of heart.

It turned out that dying was the impetus he needed to _really_ self-reflect on how his actions got him into the mess he was in.

He begged to be allowed to apologise and have his sentence reduced. He begged to be allowed to appeal. But the ruling of the king did not allow for appeals, which was really the only reason Bor had chosen to hear the case at all.

Hela smiled lazily as he was pushed down onto the block, snivelling and sobbing as the guards held him in place.

“Pity you didn’t actually kill her,” Hela said. “I’ve always found that _particular_ sister annoying, but nevertheless, here we are. Maybe one of your Jotun-hating friends will do a better job.”

She swung before he could say anything and sighed as the feeling of his death hit her body. “Such a lovely morning,” she said. “Now clean that up, there’s a strangler being executed tomorrow and I’ve had some ideas we need to prepare for.”

The guards did as she said as she sauntered back into the guardhouse. The roll of executioner had kept her sated for a number of years now, and as a result she’d been able to resist the call to kill randomly, or in anger, well… mostly. Other than her numerus attempts to kill Loki, Hela was satisfied more than she wasn’t these days.

Which is why she was so annoyed at Daianya being told to accompany Odin to Vanaheim. Now, granted, Hela had no interest in Vanaheim at all. She preferred to stay at home and fulfil her role as executioner to the fullest of her powers, but it was the principle of the thing. She was the oldest, she was the heir, she should have been chosen to go.

Grumpy, Hela sat down in a huff and stared at the paperwork in front of her. At least she’d managed to find a secretary to do most of the paperwork who wasn’t put off by working around death and torture. In fact he was excited by it.

Hela rose from her desk and called him into her office.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Take this,” Hela said, reaching into her desk drawer and pulling out the club which shot spikes out of the end at the touch of a button. “Use it on me; it never fails to satisfy me.”

He took it with a smile and walked around behind her. Hela undid her pants and pushed them down before bending over the desk and picking up the pen.

She hated signing things, but at least she’d found a way to make it a little bit more bearable.

“Engage the spikes just as I finish signing the last one,” she said. “I want to be rewarded for finishing all my work.”

****

A month later Daianya held up two dresses side by side with an equal look of confusion. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Which one feels more comfortable?” Nal asked. “Whichever one it is, then the other one probably looks better on.”

Daianya pulled a face. “I prefer my training uniform” she said.

“Your training uniform is for the training grounds, your dresses are for official royal visits,” Nal said. “Here, let me pick.” She held each dress up to Daianya in turn and looked her over with a critical eye. “The blue one,” she said, throwing the other one on the bed. 

“Why the blue one?” Daianya asked.

“It makes your eyes stand out, which could also be helped with a little bit of powder, do you have any?”

“No, I do not,” Daianya said.

“I do!” Anima said cheerfully.

“So do I, but your brown, I’m blue, and she’s… the colour of bronze,” Nal said. “Our stuff won’t work.”

“We could go shopping?” Anima suggested. “If we go this afternoon then there’s still time before she leaves.”

Nal hesitated. She had avoided going back to the market since the attack. She didn’t feel as safe as she used to and she wanted to get that feeling back before she ventured out again.

“You two are forgetting something very important,” Daianya said. “Even if you get me powder I still don’t know how to put it on properly.”

“That’s true,” Nal said. “Improper powder application can make you look terrible and we are trying to avoid that.”

Anima huffed in disappointment. “I wonder what I have to do to be allowed to go to Vanaheim,” she said. 

“You’re of age,” Nal said. “You should be allowed to go just because you want to.”

Anima shook her head. “I asked, King Bor has to give consent because we’re prin-cesses!”

The last word was sung in a slightly sarcastic manner. 

“Did he say no?” Nal asked. “I wanted to visit the dark forest one day, I didn’t think he’d say no.”

“He didn’t say yes _or_ no,” Anima said. “I’m still waiting to hear his decision.”

“When did you ask?” Daianya asked.

“Three years ago,” Anima said. “Frankly, he’s probably still getting around to it. He’s a terrible procrastinator when it comes to low priority tasks, all Asgardians are. The scholars think taking a century to write down their latest research is rushing. They’re frequently horrified by how often I write scrolls of my latest works.”

“It comes from having the time,” Nal said. “There’s always tomorrow, or so they seem to think.”

“Jotun live just as long as Asgardians,” Anima said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they were the same, certainly grandmother seems content to wait ages for things she wants like it’s nothing. I _wish_ I had time like that to waste.”

“Would you waste it?” Daianya asked. “Or would your mortal senses always be telling you to rush forwards as fast as you can?”

“I’d waste it,” Anima said confidently. “I’d waste a _ton_ of it. But it wouldn’t matter because there’d still be a ton left.”

Nal finished packing Daianya’s bag. “Here, all done. Take them out and hang them up as soon as you get there so that they won’t be as creased.”

“I’ve heard that the servants in the Vanir palace do all that for you,” Anima said. 

“It’s not so different here,” Daianya said. “The servants still take our clothes to wash and iron, and they come and hang them back up for us too.”

“ _I’ve_ heard that the servants of Vanaheim help you bathe,” Anima said. “Apparently they even wash your hair for you.”

All three of them regarded Daianya’s mountain of hair.

“Well, if they upset you for any reason I guess you know how to punish them,” Nal said, earning herself a swat from Daianya.

“I will not be allowing anyone to _bathe_ me,” Daianya said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I will pay you all of my allowance for this month if you ask them to help you brush and style it,” Anima said.

****

Daianya and Odin left the next morning. They rode down the length of the Bifrost bridge to the mechanism at the end and dismounted, handing the reins to one of the guards who would not be going with them.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Daianya admitted nervously.

“It’s not difficult. We visit every few years and so do they, it’s more about keeping the ties between us strong. Just stay polite, talk to Princes Norbleen and Dorgen, and let them show you some of the sites,” Odin said. “They’ll be a feast, there always is, but other than a little dancing you won’t have to do much. Did you read the information you were sent on Vanir feast customs?”

Daianya nodded. “Actually, Nal read it first and summarised it for me, but I did manage to read it for myself a few days ago,” she said as they walked inside the mechanism and waited as the guard on duty set the destination.

“Good, follow that and you’ll be fine. Diplomacy is an important part of being a ruler,” Odin said.

“Good thing I’m only going to be a Valkyrie,” Daianya said.

Odin stayed silent as the guard finished setting up the destination and pressed the sequence to activate the Bifrost.

In a rush of movement they were pulled away across the stars.

****

Nal waited nervously in the rock garden, surrounded by stones of varying sizes and the tenacious and hardy plants which thrived in that sort of environment.

She was meeting someone for the first time and she was feeling very nervous.

The sound of footsteps alerted her to their approach and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

The man, when he arrived, was very short and quite skinny, and he walked with a fluidity that hinted at a dancer’s background.

He saw her standing there and stopped, looking surprised.

“Your Grace?” he said questioningly even as he bowed.

“Yes, Master Evanen?” Nal asked.

“I am indeed. I was to meet a client here, am I right in thinking that you are she?” he asked.

Nal nodded. “I was advised that you are a master of the Vanir fighting style, which is more suitable for ladies,” she said.

He tilted his head to the side. “Suitable for everyone, I like to think, but it is only more suitable for ladies on Asgard because ladies on Asgard do not usually wear pants. The robes of the Vanir make fighting in the Asgardian style difficult indeed.”

Nal took a small step forwards. “Will you teach me to fight?” she asked.

“Do I have the King’s permission?” he countered.

Nal bit her lip. “No, he was very busy and hasn’t been able to find the time to see me yet for me to ask,” she admitted.

“Would he object, do you think, to one of his granddaughters learning from me?” Master Evanen asked.

“Well, Hela never really learnt how to fight, she’s just naturally good at it, and Daianya is almost a full Valkyrie and he certainly approves of that, so… no?” Nal said.

Master Evanen grinned. “I will make you a deal, your Grace. I will assume that he has no objection to you learning the _defensive_ part of the Vanir fighting style, as everyone should learn how to defend themselves if necessary, but I will wait to hear word before I teach you the _offensive_ side, for I feel that if there is an objection to be made, he would be far more likely to make it there, yes?”

Nal nodded. “That’s fair,” she said.

“And it’s what you want,” Master Evanen added. “I know about the marketplace incident, everyone in the city was talking about it, and I know they speculate why you have not been back, but my speculations are a little closer to the truth, I feel. Why would you return to a place where you were attacked and nobody helped you? I’m right, am I not, that the guards who are paid to keep the peace did indeed try to do so, but the men and women of the city simple stood by and watched? Do you think they would have interceded had it been one of your sisters?”

Nal looked at the ground. “That would be a pretty accurate speculation,” she admitted. “I am not like my sisters, I will always stand out, and I will never be liked the way they are. But I had thought that I would at least be respected as King Bor’s granddaughter, however it appears I was wrong.”

Master Evanen gave her a bow. “You cannot help what you are, only what you do,” he said. “And I have fought in many battles against all kinds of enemies, and what I have learnt is that they are all people on the inside. Some are bad, some are good, some are broken and others are whole. I will teach you to be less afraid of the people who fear you.”

“Thank you,” Nal said. “When would you like to begin?”

“I have some business in the city which I must take care of, next week, on Borsday is when I am first free. Will you meet me here after breakfast?”

Nal nodded. “I will bring payment with me as we meet,” she said.

He smiled. “Good. That eliminates the awkwardness of having to ask for it. Did your research tell you my rate?”

Nal nodded. “Two gold for an hour’s lesson; steeper than most but you have a reputation for being one of the best.”

Master Evanen nodded. “I will see you next week, your Grace.”

He left her alone in the garden. Nal allowed herself to sag. She had never had an interest in fighting, certainly not the way Daianya did and _certainly_ not the way Hela did, but there was no denying that of the four sisters Nal was the most defenceless. At least Anima could turn people into goats.

She made her way through to the rose garden and breathed in the scent which hung heavily in the air.

“There you are,” said Loki from behind her. He and Anima were standing side by side, holding a bag each and looking equally mischievous. 

“Come on back to your room to pack,” Anima said. “We’re going to Vanaheim.”

“There is no way King Bor gave his permission for the three of us to go to Vanaheim,” Nal said.

Loki shrugged. “I’m sure he’s just busy,” he said, “which is why I borrowed this” – he held up the tesseract in one hand – “so that we wouldn’t have to bother him with trivial Bifrost requests.”

“If we get caught you are going to be in so much more trouble than we are,” Nal said, smiling in spite of herself.

“I know, that’s half the fun,” Loki said. “The other half of the fun was getting through the weapons’ vault security. The illusion I left in place of the tesseract will run out in three days, now, are you coming?”

“The servants are going to notice if our food stays untouched for three days,” Nal said.

“Not with the spell I cast,” Anima said. “Come on, Nal, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Oh mortals, always rushing,” Nal joked, but she started walking. “I’ll be packed in a few minutes.”

“Yay!” Anima said, giving an excited little jump.


	38. Vanaheim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read my 100 Steps Series you will recognise quite a few elements from that which turn up in the next few chapters. The truth is _this_ story has been in my head since long before I wrote that one, but I wanted to practice my writing first plus prove to myself that I could finish a long fic, so when I got the chance to take my idea for Vanaheim and flesh it out I took it. Not everything is the same but a lot of the history and fine detail is. If anyone _wants_ to think of it as part of the same universe then I don't think anything I write here will contradict the history told in the 100 Steps Series so I guess you can if you want to. Future stories (there are four in this series) will start to contradict things though so it's up to you how you want to view it.

Crown Prince Norbleen of Vanaheim straightened his collar in the mirror and looked over at his father for approval.

“Good, good, you need to look immaculate,” King Dimcken said. “My request for Princess Daianya’s hand was never responded to, but then maybe it was a bit presumptuous to send it so soon after her coming of age. It’s been a few years now and they must be reconsidering.”

“Or she’s just coming to spend time with her father?” Norbleen pointed out.

“Is she the blue one?” Prince Dorgen asked. He was sitting by the fire in his best clothes and looked as uncomfortable as a thirteen-year-old possibly could.

“No! She’s the Aesir one, the one with the red hair,” Dimcken said.

“Oh. I wanted to see the blue one again,” Dorgen said. “She had really awesome eyes.”

“Nal would be an acceptable alternative if Bor has other plans for Daianya, but really, she can’t do better than you, Norbleen, you hold the highest rank of any of the available young men in both our realms,” Dimcken said. 

“What a remarkable accomplishment,” Norbleen said, winking at Dorgen, who smothered a laugh.

“I want you to woo her when she’s here,” Dimcken said. “If she likes you then she can put pressure on Bor to accept the marriage.”

“And if she doesn’t like you then you can marry the blue one,” Dorgen said. “And if _she_ doesn’t like you then you can marry the mortal one, and if _she_ doesn’t like you then… then…”

“Then I’ll die alone,” Norbleen said cheerfully.

“You most certainly will not,” Dimcken said, as the two brothers exchanged knowing smiles. “You will marry a Princess if I have to have one shipped in from outside of the nine realms.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Norbleen said. “What if I find someone right here to love?”

Dimcken shrugged. “That’s rare, my boy, I loved your mother very much and… well, if you find someone like that then I wish you the best of luck, but if she happens to be a Princess of Asgard then I’ll be a great deal happier about it.”

A servant chimed a little bell from outside the door.

“Come!” Dimcken called out.

The servant stepped inside and bowed. “The Bifrost signal has been received, your Majesty, the Crown Prince of Asgard and his daughter will be arriving in a few minutes.”

“Come on,” Dimcken said, almost running to the door. “Let’s go and greet them, and make sure you make a good impression!”

Norbleen and Dorgen both followed at a more sedate pace.

“Odin doesn’t have any younger daughters for me to marry, does he?” Dorgen asked Norbleen.

“No, he’s only got the four,” Norbleen said.

“Whew,” Dorgen said.

Norbleen looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh don’t worry, if Father has his way he’ll send you off to Asgard to marry Princess Hela and be her Queen’s Consort.”

There was a brief moment in which he waited for what he said to sink in. Dorgen looked at him with horror in his eyes, and Norbleen started laughing. “I’m kidding!” he admitted.

“You horse’s anus!” Dorgen exclaimed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just wanted to see the look on your face!” Norbleen said, still laughing.

“I was panicking! Really panicking!” Dorgen yelled.

“Come _on_ you two, and stop laughing, I don’t want then to think that we spend all our time laughing!” Dimcken said.

The two brothers exchanged knowing smiles for the second time in ten minutes. Their father was so easy to wind up.

****

The Bifrost light faded away and Daianya took her first look at Vanaheim.

It was in a receiving room which was decorated with paintings of nymphs and forest scenes; very pretty, but also rather overwhelming. She snuck a quick glance at the roof and saw that, other than the Bifrost receiving mechanism, it was also brightly painted.

“Welcome to Vanaheim Prince Odin and Princess Daianya!” King Dimcken beamed. He gave them each a small bow as a curtesy as they made much deeper ones in respect of his title. “May I present my sons, _Crown_ Prince Norbleen, and Prince Dorgen.” 

Odin smiled and gave them both a small bow of respect, which they returned, Daianya did the same. Dorgen was staring openly at her, which earned a slight kick from Norbleen.

“I have planned a feast for tonight to welcome you to our realm,” Dimcken continued, not seeing what his two sons were up to behind him.

“We are very grateful and look forward to it,” Odin said. “I always enjoy visiting Vanaheim; it has such wonderful open spaces and far more diversity in its climate and animals.”

“Maybe Norbleen can show Princess Daianya some of the sights while you visit,” Dimcken suggested, about as subtly as a rock.

Daianya made eye contact with Norbleen, who shot her a slightly amused apologetic look. She turned back to Dimcken while fighting a smile.

“I’m sure Daianya would love to see what Vanaheim has to offer,” Odin said.

Dimcken led the way to a balcony for drinks and polite chit chat. Odin walked beside him as Norbleen appeared at Daianya’s side.

“If I don’t walk you in I’m going to get told off tonight after the feast,” he said, holding out his arm, “Not that escorting you from one room to another isn’t an exhilarating experience.” 

“For both of us,” Daianya said, taking his arm and letting him lead her.

“Do I detect some sarcasm in the room?” Dorgen asked.

Norbleen turned to look at him. “Do you want to visit Asgard, little brother? I’m sure it can be arranged?”

Dorgen skipped ahead out of the room with a laugh.

Norbleen and Daianya followed him more calmly. “He’s a great kid,” Norbleen said. “I promise.”

“I’m not a kid,” Dorgen said, popping his head out from behind a pillar. 

“You’re not grown up,” Norbleen said.

“I’m closer to grown up than not,” Dorgen argued. “And what happened to your hair? It wasn’t all bushy like that the last time I saw you.”

“You won’t be grown up to me until we’re both in Fólkvangr, and even then I’ll take some convincing if you are going to make comments like that,” Norbleen said. He turned to Daianya, “Are your sisters this annoying to you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid this is your burden alone,” she said in mock seriousness.

“Are you two going to start kissing? Because I have a horse stall to muck out and I want to time it _just right_ ,” Dorgen said.

Norbleen smacked his palm into his head as Daianya started laughing.

****

Nal, Loki and Anima appeared at the edge of a field in a flurry of blueish smoke, which vanished as quickly as it arrived.

“I _love_ this thing,” Loki said, examining the tesseract in his hand.

“Where are we?” Nal asked, looking around.

“If my calculations are correct, which, let’s be honest, they are about eight percent of the time, we are on the edge of the eastern-most field of the estate of Lord Fallconyr, otherwise known as the King’s best friend and occasional biggest critic,” Loki said, putting the tesseract away. “Of course we will not be dropping in, rather we are heading out of this gate right here and into the forest beyond.”

Nal looked up at the trees beyond the gate. “They’re enormous!” she said, her eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s hard to have a dark forest with tiny trees, not impossible, just hard,” Loki said.

“The dark forest starts immediately outside of someone’s lands?” Anima said, “That seems wrong somehow. Dark forests should creep up on you slowly, like an ever-growing shadow in the light of the setting sun, or something.”

“The dark forest has been arounds longer than Vanaheim has been a united people,” Loki said. “These lands were cut into it, so every tree left standing – and there are a lot of them – is older than Lord Fallconyr’s castle over yonder.”

“I can’t see it,” Anima said, looking off in the direction of his wave.

“That’s because these lands of huge,” Loki said. “It’s that tiny little speck on the horizon, see?”

“Oh yeah,” Anima said.

Nal, meanwhile, had stepped through the gate and onto the path which led through the dark forest with a look of wonder in her eyes.

“There’s no light at all coming through the canopy,” she said. “The foliage is so thick!”

Loki grinned. “You should see some of the life that manages to thrive in there,” he said, heading towards her. “Now, let’s head out, and keep to the road for now because if you get lost in the forest there is no natural way to navigate direction. People have absolutely gotten turned around and died in there.”

They set along the road which was cobbled and looked well used.

“Where does this lead to?” Nal asked.

“A tavern, well, a settlement which _contains_ a tavern, the tavern is the part I care about,” Loki said. “As that is where we will be sleeping and eating for the next three days, except for, you know, when we have to teleport home for the nightly feast.”

“People live in the Dark Forest?” Nal said. “Somehow that almost seems to ruin it a little bit.”

“People can and will live anywhere if they are given the chance,” Loki said. “But don’t you worry, my Princess, there is plenty of untouched forest around, I’ve seen the aerial maps, it covers an area the size of Asgard.”

“Vanaheim is one of the bigger realms, isn’t it?” Anima asked. “I remember learning about them all in lessons, Midgard and Vanaheim are the largest, Asgard and Nidavellir are the smallest, and everything else lies somewhere in the middle.”

“True, very true; it’s also the reason why Midgard and Vanaheim are the only two realms which have multiple seasons going on at the same time,” Loki said. “It’s always hotter along the equator of Vanaheim and Midgard, and far colder both north and south. Meanwhile, poor Jotunheim sits just _slightly_ too far away from its sun to ever see s summers’ day, tragedy that.”

Nal spotted a flower growing up from the edge of the forest and stray towards it.

“Hold on,” she said, kneeling down. “What do you think this is?”

“Pink,” Anima said unhelpfully.

“Pick it and we’ll find out later,” Loki said. “I’ll keep it safe in a seidr pocket for you.”

Nal carefully picked the flower and handed it to him. “It’s got a double row of petals,” she said.

He nodded. “Is that good?” he asked, making it disappear.

“It just is,” Nal said. “Most plants just are.”

“We’ve got a few hours’ hike ahead of us,” Loki said. “At which point we will come to a stream which I want you to make note of. Tomorrow we will be hiking into the Dark Forest to have a look around and the stream is one of the few navigation points it is possible to use.”

They set off walking again, taking their time as the hours and distance slipped away.

****

Daianya thanked the servant who showed her to her room and assured him she did not need him further at present. Finally alone, she let out a sigh she didn’t realise she’d been holding in.

Dimcken was hard work. He was half-simpering, half-prideful, all fuss and bother. How Odin put up with him so calmly was a testament to his patience. How Bor ever managed to do so Daianya couldn’t fathom.

By contrast, Norbleen was much easier to talk to. He was sensible and funny, and seemed to find his father’s less-than-subtle plans regarding the two of them to be a source of amusement.

After drinks King Dimcken had suggested that Daianya be given a tour of the palace, as she had never visited before, and had practically shoved Norbleen out of the door in order to take her.

He’d shown her the armory, the treasure room, the throne room and great hall, the training yards and the long gallery.

What Daianya had gleaned from this walking tour had been that Vanaheim _loved_ colour. Every wall was brightly painted, every ceiling too.

Daianya glanced up, yes, even the bedroom ceilings. This guest room had planetary bodies and special alignments all over it.

They wore more colours too. Daianya was no stranger to colour, although Nal was better at finding ones which complimented each other, but the Vanir fashion was heavily into bright, clashing colours and embroidery. Daianya had never seen so much glittering thread in her life.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and went in search of the bathroom.

It was off to the side of the room, through a door that she almost didn’t spot because of the painting which had been done over the top. She walked through and into a large room with a deep bath in one corner over which sat a shower, and a toilet tucked behind a painted screen in another corner by the sink.

The third corner was occupied by a woman, who was standing silently waiting for acknowledgement.

“Can I help you?” Daianya asked her.

She bowed deeply. “I am Fusia, your Grace, I have been assigned to be your bath servant,” she said.

 _Anima! You were right! They have servants just to help you bath here!_ Daianya thought instantly.

 _I knew it!_ Anima thought back.

“I… don’t need any help to bathe,” Daianya said. “Thank you.”

She bowed deeply again. “I can run your bath if you desire it, and I can help brush your… hair.”

The last word had just a slight hitch to it as the servant took in Daianya’s mountain of tight curls.

“Thank you, but no. I can take care of it myself,” Daianya said.

Fusia’s look of relief was almost completely hidden behind a blank mask of professionalism, but Daianya had been watching for it and saw the way the woman’s shoulders lowered as the tension eased.

“As you wish, your Grace,” she said.

“You can go, please,” Daianya said.

Fusia bowed again. “I’ll wait in the servants’ room just through the door, you can ring the bell if you need anything,” she said, gesturing to a cord which ran up into the ceiling.

Daianya watched in surprise as she pushed open what had looked like a piece of the wall and disappeared through it.

The information Odin had given to her to read had said that the servants used separate passageways to travel throughout the palace. Personally Daianya thought it was a massive security risk, but there was no way around it, that was the way things had always been done.

She found her brushes laid out on the vanity and various soaps and shampoos on a shelf by the bath.

She turned the water on and watched as the tub began to fill from a horizontal tap that spanned the length of the tub. It was quite soothing to watch it fall down, like a sleek waterfall.

She had two hours to get ready for the feast. Apparently King Dimcken liked them almost as much as King Bor did, although feasts in Vanaheim were quite different in nature. 

Daianya looked over suspiciously at the location of the invisible door, but it remained closed. She undid her belt and started unbuttoning her dress.

She paused and looked at the door again.

She tried to undo the rest of her buttons but the ease at which the servant could just pop back into the room was getting to her.

 _I need a way to bock that door,_ Daianya thought.

 _Is there any furniture you can move in front of it?_ Nal asked. _You have to be far stronger than a servant, see if there’s anything you can lift that they won’t be able to._

Daianya left the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. There was a free-standing wardrobe on one wall. She went over to it and put her arms around it.

It wasn’t easy, the weight was fine but the width was awkwardly wide for her arm span, nevertheless she managed to manoeuvre it through the door and into the bathroom. With the servant’s door finally sealed to her satisfaction, she was able to relax and take a bath. 

****

Nal, Anima and Loki crossed the stream as the sun began to set.

“Notice that it flows from north to south, more or less,” Loki said. “Tomorrow we will be exploring to the south west of the settlement, so if you get lost there is a chance you will stumble upon this exact stream. If you do then follow it against the direction of the flow and eventually you will find the road again.”

“What if it’s a different stream?” Anima asked.

“There aren’t any in the area we are exploring. The people of the settlement tend to stick to the south west of their homes for exactly that reason,” Loki said.

“Can’t they just use a tracker?” Nal asked.

“No,” Loki said. “I’ll explain why when we get there.”

Another hour passed as they walked, and then the settlement appeared before them. It was rustic and primitive, with no sign if any modern technology.

“Come on,” Loki said. “We need to settle in and get our bags unpacked, and then it will be time to pop home and put in an appearance for Bor’s feast. We’ll come straight back after, say, an hour?”

“Works for me,” Nal said.

“Did you enjoy hiking through the forest?” Loki asked her.

“I wasn’t expecting a road,” Nal admitted, “But yes, all the same. It was fun, and I can see why people are advised not to venture into the forest alone.”

Loki led the way to the tavern and pushed open the door. His arrival was marked by a few nods of acknowledgement, which became frowns of concern when Nal and Anima followed him in.

“Who are they?” the barman said immediately.

“Friends of mine, and no friends of King Dickhead,” Loki said. “And hello to you too, Gerdall.”

Nal and Anima exchanged a brief look of surprise but said nothing.

“So you vouch for them?” Gerdall asked.

“If I didn’t they wouldn’t be here,” Loki said. “We’ve come to stay for a few days, and I’ve brought payment in the form of whiskey, ale and wine.”

That news was greeted with more enthusiasm, and Loki pulled several casks from a fold of seidr which he handed over to Gerdall’s assistant.

“Alright,” Gerdall said. “I’ve only got two rooms.”

“I know, that won’t be an issue,” Loki said.

He took the keys and led the two women upstairs and to the rear of the tavern.

“Gerdall’s alright, he’s been here for almost a millennia now,” Loki explained as he unlocked the first room. “He was accused of stealing from the palace back when he was a servant and sentenced to hang, but Lord Fallconyr got him out before the day came and hid him here. Everyone here is hiding from the crown’s version of justice.”

“Are any of them guilty?” Nal asked.

“Sure, plenty of them, but not of anything worth dying for. Most were just young and stole something shiny,” Loki said. “They have to live all the way out here without modern technology, because that could be picked up on a scanner and investigated, but at least they get to live. There’s a number of children out here now, born from fugitive parents. I believe Lord Fallconyr sneaks them back into the Vanir system by assigning them volunteer parents from some of his legitimate villages, but I’m not sure about the details, I never cared enough to look into it properly.”

“So we are staying two nights in an illegal settlement, on a realm we don’t have permission to be on?” Nal asked.

Loki grinned. “Yeah, awesome, right?”

“Let’s just get unpacked, I’ll let you know if it’s awesome after I’ve walked through some of the Dark forest for myself,” Nal said.

“How’s Daianya doing?” Loki asked as Nal and Anima put their bags on the bed in their room.

“She’s afraid to take a bath in case a servant sneaks up on her,” Nal said.

Loki looked at her with a dead-pan expression. “The Goddess of Souls is worried about someone sneaking up on her?” he said.

“It’s less the sneaking and more the ‘coming in through a hidden door she can’t lock,” Anima said. “She put a wardrobe in front of it, she’s fine.”

“One of those big old fashioned ones? I’m impressed, those are _solid_ ,” Loki said.

“When did you see the inside of the Vanir royal palace?” Nal asked him.

Loki waved a hand carelessly. “I may have talked my way in once or twice; enough to know about how heavy their furniture is.”

“Sure,” Nal said. “And one day, no doubt soon because of how much you love to brag, you will tell us all about it.”

Loki grinned. “You know me so well,” he said. “I’ll teleport us back to Asgard in half an hour. We eat, we make small talk, we meet back up and head back here, sound like a plan?”

“Sure.”

“Yes.”

Loki left them alone to unpack and change.


	39. One Time Horse-Fucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki recounts his sexual experience with a horse in this chapter. To be fair, he does so in a humorous way but if you prefer not to read in detail about anything to do with bestiality then you can skip over his entire paragraph once he says the words "I fucked a horse once."

Daianya finished bathing and dressing and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She had about half an hour before the feast began.

She looked at her hair again in the mirror. Despite her best efforts it still sat all around her head like a halo.

“I wish I could take a dagger on my belt,” she mumbled to herself, “At least that way I wouldn’t feel so helpless in these skirts.”

With every passing year since joining the Valkyrie Daianya had come to like skirts less and less. She didn’t like the way they tangled around her legs and how differently people treated her – even without meaning to – when she wore them versus her armour.

Most Valkyrie wore their armour, or variations thereof, almost all the time and Daianya could understand why.

Still, there was nothing she could do about it. Hela was the only princess who got away with wearing whatever she damn well felt like, and that was only because Odin and Bor didn’t feel up to having daily arguments about it. Daianya had a more agreeable personality generally, and didn’t see the point in fighting trivial battles.

But was it really trivial? The dress she wore now in every way made her look like someone she wasn’t.

There was a knock on her door. Daianya walked over and pulled it open, startling the Fusia who had been waiting for her to call out.

“Yes?” Daianya asked.

Fusia bowed deeply. “I came to ask if you required any assistance preparing for the feast?” she asked.

“No, I’ve got it covered, thank you,” Daianya said.

“Will you not be requiring any assistance with face powder?” Fusia asked from the doorway as Daianya went to turn away.

“I don’t wear it,” Daianya said.

“Oh,” Fusia looked rather disappointed. “Very well, your Grace, um, is there something blocking the servant’s door to the bathroom? Only I tried to come in to take the towels away and the door wouldn’t open.”

Daianya tried to hide the slightly guilty, slightly amused expression that threatened to cross her face. “I put a wardrobe across it,” she said. “I don’t like people being able to walk in on me.”

“Oh no, your Grace, I would never do that. I knocked first and waited to hear if anyone was in there before I tried the door,” Fusia said hastily.

“You can take them now if you want to,” Daianya conceded letting Fusia into the bedroom.

The servant ducked another bow and scurried through the door to the bathroom. She came back a moment later with the towels in her arms. “Thank you, your Grace, um, that’s a very big wardrobe.”

“Yes, it is,” Daianya said.

Fusia looked as though she wanted to say something, but perhaps thought it would be inappropriate to do so to a princess. “Very good, your Grace,” she said instead.

She turned and left through another servant’s door, which until that moment had looked just like any other piece of the bedroom wall, leaving Daianya to stare at it in surprise and mild annoyance.

“I need another wardrobe,” she muttered, looking around for something heavy to block the new door with. 

There was a knock on the only obvious door in the room. Daianya sighed and pulled it open.

Odin was standing on the other side of it, and he gave her a smile in greeting. “How are you settling in?” he asked.

“Come in,” Daianya said, stepping back. “It’s fine, everything is fine, very colourful, but fine.”

“You don’t sound fully convinced,” Odin said.

“How many secret doors does a typical guest suite have?” Daianya said, spotting a large chest of drawers and going over to push it across the newly discovered door.

Odin chuckled. “It takes some getting used to but it’s their way of doing things.”

“It’s a security risk,” Daianya said as the chest of drawers slowly scraped towards its new position.

“The servants all have guard training as well,” Odin said. “Enough to hold off any attackers until the regular guards arrive.”

“So even the security is hidden,” Daianya said. “I didn’t realise Vanaheim’s way of life involved so much secrecy.”

“It’s just different,” Odin said. “Like the feast tonight, do you remember what I told you?”

“Only eat and drink what the King and Queen have sampled,” Daianya said, “which sounds like another disaster waiting to happen, if you ask me.” 

“The food gets scanned for poisons same as at our feasts,” Odin said, “Although the real trick is being the kind of ruler that people don’t want to poison.”

“I’m grateful not to be any kind of ruler at all,” Daianya said. “I’ll settle for General of the Valkyrie and be satisfied.”

She felt a strange type of shift in Odin’s soul and stopped pushing the chest of drawers.

“What are you hiding from me?” she asked, staring him down.

Odin looked startled; clearly he had not been expecting to be read so easily. “Your powers are increasing,” he commented.

“Maybe I’m just willing to embrace them more,” Daianya said, still staring.

Odin sighed. “In addition to Father’s newfound appreciation for your god power, he also wanted to see how you handled the court of Vanaheim. It’s familiar enough to be our closest ally but different enough to seem… disorienting? But if you can handle yourself well here then – “

“Is he going to engage me to Prince Norbleen?” Daianya asked.

Odin gave a little sigh that was his version of a shrug. “He hasn’t said that will, but it’s a fairly logical conclusion,” he said.

“I want to be a Valkyrie,” Daianya said. “I don’t want to finally make it through training only to be sent off to another realm to wear skirts and make heirs.”

Odin blinked. “Cementing alliances through marriage is as old a tradition as inheriting the crown,” he said. “I married Hela’s mother because I was told to; Father needed her family’s support for the troll conflict and bringing them closer to the crown was the best way forwards.”

“But did you love her?” Daianya asked.

Odin looked sombre. “I liked her very much,” he said. “I thought that I loved her, and I missed her when she was gone. The only reason I don’t still think that is because when I met your mother I felt a love so strong I knew I had been lying to myself before.”

“Did she love you?” Daianya asked.

Odin was quiet for almost a full minute. “No,” he said at last. “She was always kind and always pleasant, but she married me for duty as much as I did her.”

“So why try to make your children go through what you regret?” Daianya said.

“I don’t regret it,” Odin started, but was once again confronted with a pair of knowing, orange eyes. “I preferred love,” he corrected, “but I had a friend in Helda, and it wasn’t a bad marriage. We made it work for us, even after a rocky start.”

Daianya walked over to him. “I don’t want this,” she said.

“Just spend some time with him,” Odin urged, “See Vanaheim and try to enjoy it… and if you really hate it then I will try to convince Father not to arrange any betrothals.”

Daianya smiled. “Thank you, Father.”

“We have to get going,” Odin said. “The feast is almost due to begin.”

****

Nal took one last sip of wine and bid her grandmother goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Bestla looked at her in surprise. “Early night?” she asked.

“I have some reading to do about some new plants I’ve gotten the opportunity to study,” Nal said.

“Have fun, dear, and don’t stay up too late,” Bestla said.

Anima waited fifteen minutes so as not to appear suspicious and then also said her goodnights.

“I’m just feeling really sleepy,” she said.

Loki didn’t bother telling anyone when he went; he just walked out once the crowd began to mingle around and sat waiting for the other two in a room off the great hall.

“Let’s go,” he said as Anima arrived.

He pulled out the tesseract and concentrated, and the three of them appeared back in one of the settlement tavern bedrooms.

“Now, do either of you actually want to call it a night or would you like to go downstairs and have drinks with some ruffians?” Loki asked.

“Ruffians,” Anima said at once.

“Definitely ruffians,” Nal said.

They headed back down the stairs and into the tavern proper, which was now filled with people of the settlement. Most were having something to drink or eat, some were playing tavern games. A large number of them stopped what they were doing and stared at Nal as she came down the stairs.

“Who’s the Jotun?” one of them asked from the back of the room.

“I’ve never seen a woman before,” said another.

“Really?” Loki asked. “I should think all the women in this tavern ought to be insulted, fancy thinking they were men all this time.”

“You know what I mean,” the speaker said but it was half muttered in embarrassment.

Nal inched slightly closer to Loki as he ordered ale from the bar.

“Maybe I should have stayed upstairs,” she said quietly.

Loki looked at her with a tinge of sadness. “That attack really got to you, didn’t it?” he said quietly.

“Blue is always going to stand out in realms of brown, gold and pink,” Nal said.

“Hey pretty lady, if I ride the frozen horse will I get frostbite on my sword?” asked a random man, to the sound of sniggers.

“I fucked a horse once,” Loki said loudly. “Turned myself into a mare, ran past a fine strong stallion and found myself being chased, all well and good, or so I thought, but then just inside the forest he caught up with me. Damn those things have long cocks. I thought he was going to bruise my liver it was jammed in so far, but then after a few seconds I started to feel all 'aaaah' and 'ooooh' and 'oh-yeah'. So I’m standing there, horse wrapped around my waist, weight of him on my back, tension building, just having a really nice time getting _railed_ like you wouldn’t believe, and then a thrice-damned hunter comes stumbling in. So now I’m thinking: An audience! I didn’t ask for one, but I can work with this, I can make it happen. So now I’m being watch by a hunter, horse on my back, cock up my pussy, getting close to the finish, and then I think: Do horses even finish? Like, I know _I_ do, but is this going to freak the hunter out? But then I tell myself that I can work with _that_ , you know, freaking out a hunter sounds like a good time, so I’m getting back into it, getting close, horse is going freaking _wild_ in the back of me, hunter’s grinning ‘cause he clearly likes the show and then BAM, I hit climax, lose control of my shape-change, turn back into me – still got the horse cock to deal with mind you – so I’m screaming in pleasure, hunter’s screaming in terror, horse is just screaming – dunno what’s going through his horsey mind – and then the hunter’s dog decides to get in on the action and starts humping his owner’s leg. Hunter pushes him off and starts running away, I manage to get myself free of the massive horse cock, horse freaks out and runs off in another direction, and there I am left standing all alone in the middle of a forest clearing with no pants on, _and_ the next day I realise I’m pregnant, because when I turn myself into a horse with a pussy I do not mess around, _allllll_ fully functional and ready to go, that’s the only way to do it really.”

The crowd had fallen silent, mostly in mild horror.

Anima, who had been using the time to concentrate, blinked once and the man who had spoken to Nal turned into a female goat.

“That’s better,” Anima said. “Now at least he can be useful.”

Nal picked up her drink and held it in front of her in a subdued manner. She’d never let any horrible, vulgar or otherwise unkind things get to her before, she had always managed to write them off as the actions of specific individuals… but Loki had been right; the attack had shaken her.

She needed to learn to defend herself as soon as possible, that way she wouldn’t feel so scared by random comments and vulgar men.

“I’d fuck that,” Loki said, nodding towards the goat, which bleated and ran off.

“When is he going to turn back?” asked a woman at the bar.

Anima shrugged. “When I feel like it.”

“Ha! Good! That man’s a prick. He’s here because he pissed on a statue of King Dickhead – which shouldn’t mean a death sentence – but the reason he did it is because he’s a prick. I’m Glornia, I hunt in the Dark Forest.”

“There are things out there that can be hunted?” Nal asked. “I read that it was all dead below tree level because the light can’t get down there.”

Glornia chuckled. “Life will always figure something out, my girl, now, have you got a name?”

“Her name is Petal, and this is Puppy,” Loki said.

Glornia looked between all three of them. “Sure, why not?” she said dryly. “I’ve heard of a Princess in Asgard with bright blue skin and long black hair, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, Loki-who-lives-in-the-Asgardian-royal-palace?”

“Nah,” Loki said, “No idea what you’re on about.”

“If you hunt in the Dark Forest, then you must be good at navigating it,” Nal said. “We want to explore it tomorrow, is there any way we can engage you to help us?”

Glornia shook her head. “Not unless you can clean out my garden for me, it’s almost time to plant the vegetables and pulling all the weeds that’ve grown since last year is going to take all week.” She stopped when she saw Nal’s face and looked up at Loki. “Why is she grinning?” she asked.

“She’s found something to grin about,” Loki said, before gulping down his ale.

****

King Bor liked feasts so much he held them nearly every night. The great hall of the Asgardian palace would be filled with nobles, tables piled high with food and drink, and the sound of music to dance to.

Vanaheim’s feasts had the same key elements, and yet they couldn’t be more different.

Odin led Daianya to their seats and they waited for the royal family to arrive. Even as guests it was custom to wait for the royal family, and anyone who was running later than the royal family could only be granted entrance to the feast by the express permission of the king.

The feasting hall of Vanaheim was even bigger than the one on Asgard, and it was painted with scenes of picnics, feasts and other celebrations all along the walls and across the ceiling. The tables were filled with every possible noble, however minor, and the lighting was provided by giant crystal chandeliers which reflected the light in a way that made everything seem touched by shifting rainbows.

When the royal family did arrive it was to a loud and pompous-sounding announcement, letting everyone know in no uncertain terms who was who.

Queen Boaldia, who had not been present to greet their arrival or attend the drinks that followed, was dressed in rich, red, velvet and was positively dripping with rubies.

Gemstones were a big part of Vanir fashion. They had much less gold than Asgard and so used it for setting other precious items, instead of casting entire works with it. On Asgard, where everyone wore gold, the jewellery they wore seemed to blend in with the rest of their clothes, on Vanaheim standing out appeared to be the most important objective.

King Dimcken was dressed like a peacock. Deep blues and emerald greens fought for dominance alongside braces set with diamonds and sapphires, and a belt covered in serpentine stones. His golden crown was the dullest thing on him, being a completely plain band with a shaped hole carved into the front.

Norbleen appeared to be a little more sensibly dressed, although he still had on plenty of colour, and Dorgen actually stood out the most because of his bright yellow robe hung over a dark blue under-robe. 

They sat down, and King Dimcken picked up his glass.

“Welcome, everyone, and especially welcome to our guests, Odin, Crown Prince of Asgard, and his daughter, Daianya, Princess of Asgard.”

He took a drink, as did his queen. The servants immediately poured everyone a glass of the same wine. The crowd picked up their glasses and raised them in a toast.

King Dimcken turned to Odin with a broad smile. “To the continual good relationship between our two realms,” he said.

They all drank, Daianya included. The wine was a lot weaker than the Asgardian ones she was used to, but she made herself smile pleasantly anyway, no one wanted to hear that their wines weren’t very strong.

Two trays were brought out and placed in front of the King and Queen. They contained a single mouthful of every type of food prepared for the feast. The crowd waited politely as the royal couple ate and drank their way through everything. As each type of food was eaten by both of them, the servants began carrying it out to the tables to serve themselves from communal trays.

Daianya found herself looking for something familiar amongst the trays before her.

Everyone ate and drank at their designated seats. No one rose to go and speak with anyone else at any point. Daianya had been seated with Norbleen on one side of her and Dorgen on the other.

“I recommend the mini steaks,” Norbleen said to her. “They have a plum sauce that is pretty amazing, and don’t let Dorgen convince you to try the dark red paste, unless you enjoy having your mouth set on fire. That stuff should come with a warning label for the uninitiated.”

“Thank you for the tip,” she said and served herself some of the mini steaks. She hesitated and looked at the red paste.

“Go on,” Dorgen goaded. “Try it.”

“If you’re curious I can have some saved for you to try away from prying eyes,” Norbleen offered.

Dorgen huffed on his other side. “That’s boring,” he said. “But if that’s what you want, try the grey stuff, it’s got a creamy texture.” 

Daianya glanced at Norbleen, who gave her a nod of approval. Dorgen huffed again from her other side. “I wasn’t lying, I _do_ know how to be well behaved.”

“Really? You didn’t learn it from me,” Norbleen said with a wink at Daianya.

She smothered a giggle at their brotherly ribbing.

****

Further along the table, King Dimcken kept looking over at them and grinning. Beside him, Queen Boaldia managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at her husband’s lack of tact.

“And how do you fare, your Grace?” she asked Odin, trying to divert her husband’s attention away from the younger generation.

“I’m well, very well,” Odin said, catching on, not only to Daianya relaxing for the first time since arriving but also to Dimcken’s reaction. “In fact, and this is just between us, you understand, I was thinking it was time for me to marry again.”

Dimcken’s head whipped around so fast it made Odin want to wince in sympathy for his neck muscles. “You do?” he asked.

Odin nodded. “I hope to take my time, of course, meet people, get to know them. I’ve been married twice before and lost them through tragic circumstances. I would like to find someone I can fall in love with, of course my father may choose to make other plans.”

Queen Boaldia leaned forward across her husband. “Has he said anything along those lines?” she asked. 

“He mentioned it in passing,” Odin said, “Nothing more than that.”

“No theories as to alliances?” Dimcken asked.

Queen Boaldia’s lips pinched together and Odin knew for a fact that she was biting her tongue behind them. Dimcken had never been particularly good at tact.

“Not a one,” Odin said. “But like I said, I was hoping for a love match. Who knows where I might find one?”

“Who knows indeed,” Queen Boaldia said. 

Odin sat back and had a bite of his food. He would bet his place in the line of succession that by tomorrow morning all the eligible noble women of Vanaheim would be coincidently placed in his path. Fine, if it kept Dimcken from making a fool of himself watching Norbleen and Daianya like a hawk then Odin could manage a few days of fending off social climbers.

****

Nal and Anima surveyed the garden in front of them.

“I reckon with all three of you helping me we’ll be able to enter the Dark Forest in three more days,” Glornia said, standing at the edge with her hands on her hips.

Nal crouched down and touched the plants gently. “Are they all weeds?” she asked.

“Nope, which is why you’ll be picking the purple ones only, Puppy there will handle the ones with pink flowers, and horse-fucker will be manning the wheelbarrow.”

“Hey, it was one horse,” Loki said, “I mean I _really_ fucking enjoyed myself, but still, not a habit.”

Nal looked up at Anima. “Can you lift all the ones with pink flowers at once?” she asked.

Anima narrowed her eyes in thought. “I’m not sure. I need a way to identify them other than with my eyes.”

“They feel like delicacy and tenacity,” Nal said, caressing one.

“I… do not feel things on the same level you do,” Anima said.

“Come on, ladies, horse-fu – “

“ONE TIME!”

“We have a lot of work to do,” Glornia said.

“Can you listen for me?” Nal asked Anima.

Anima took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes. Nal held the pink-flowered plant and let the knowledge of its code sink into her.

 _It feels like **this** ,_ she thought.

Anima turned her head from side to side and pulled a face as she tried to comprehend a thought that didn’t come with words.

“Wait,” she said, “I think I’ve got it.”

It was hard to process. Of course Anima knew about life-codes, or as the Asgardians called them, the instructions for life. Twin strands of different nucleotides thousands, sometimes millions of combinations long. There was a whole branch of healing magic dedicated to finding and destroying it when it went wrong and formed things like cancer, although even magic didn’t go to this level. Magic could tell you what the sequence _was_ , but Nal could read what each part could _do_. Nal could do instinctively something which the greatest healing sorcerer in all the nine realms would give her right eye to be able to achieve.

“Can all Jotun do this?” Anima asked as the feeling washed over her.

“All the women,” Nal said.

With Nal’s thoughts in her mind to help, Anima reached out with her magic and felt the length of the garden, finding every last one of the pink plants by their life-code.

“I’ve got them,” she said, and raised her hand.

Glornia had given up on them and gotten started, and so she was in the middle of it all when it happened. The pink flowered plants all rose into the air at once, every last part of every last plant. Anima then shifted them over to the other side of the garden where the compost was to be made and let them fall.

“Right,” she said to Nal in front of Glornia’s awe-struck eyes, “show me the next one.”

****

The feast had gone until sunrise – apparently a tradition on Vanaheim – and the nobility would then sleep until lunchtime while the rest of the kingdom got on with things without them.

Daianya didn’t sleep particularly well. Guest rooms always had that feeling of strangeness about them which made her restless, and knowing that there might be even more hidden doors didn’t help matters.

She rose at nine and had a shower to wash the fatigue away. Apparently Prince Norbleen had been asked to show her the city today, in the afternoon of course. She pulled on yet another dress and pulled a face in the mirror. 

At least Norbleen was nice? That was a relief. But the idea of marrying him just to further cement an alliance that had never needed cementing made her annoyed. What could King Bor really do if she just ran away? Get mad, yes, but what could he do to her?

She left the bathroom and stood in the guest chamber, wondering what to do with herself. After a few minutes of bored pacing she started doing her warmup exercises. Even if she did get sent to this realm and was made to marry a future king, there was no way she was going to give up her training. She’d worked far too hard to throw it all away, and if Norbleen couldn’t understand that then he didn’t deserve her anyway.

An hour later she was mildly sweaty and in a much better mood, when a knock on her door made her pause and glance at the clock. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, maybe it was her father?

She pulled the door open to find Norbleen standing on the other side.

“Oh good, you’re up,” he said. “Ah, I was thinking, I’m supposed to show you the city this afternoon, but if we left sometimes in the next hour then my father won’t be there to see us off.”

“Good plan,” Daianya said. “Um, let me just get changed.”

He nodded and stepped back. She shut the door and ran to the bathroom to strip off her sweaty clothes and quickly wipe over her skin with a wash-cloth.

She pulled on another dress and tried to force her hair into a plait with limited success, and then she returned to the bedroom to pull on her shoes.

“Ready,” she said, pulling open the door.

Norbleen smiled at her and together they headed off to the stables for a carriage.

“We prefer to travel by horse within the city,” he explained as they walked. “We have flyers and such but they tend to be used for long distances, plus my father thinks they’re ugly, so he won’t have them within the city limits unless he absolutely has to.”

“Does he hate ugly things that much?” Daianya asked.

“He’s always been very, uh, uncomplicated, when it comes to his likes and dislikes,” Norbleen said. “That’s why he doesn’t like my stepmother.”

“That’s a little insulting,” Daianya said, surprised at him.

“Oh no! No! I don’t… I mean… my father has his own set of standards, and my stepmother doesn’t meet them, I don’t think she’s ugly, she just has a hooked nose and he hates that on a woman.”

“Why did he marry her?” Daianya said, already guessing the answer even as she asked it.

“It was political,” Norbleen said. “Her family are very powerful, although less so than they used to be, and so he offered to marry one of Lord Andgeren’s daughters, which brought prestige to their family but tied their fortunes to us.”

“Does he know he also has a hooked nose?” Daianya asked.

Norbleen smothered a laugh. “It’s not a rational preference,” he said. “My stepmother is a wonderful woman, very clever and astute, I’ve learned a lot from her about balancing powerful people and interests, but she and Father barely talk now.”

 _And this is the family King Bor wants me to marry into,_ Daianya thought.

 _What? Sorry, we’re pulling weeds and it’s a bit distracting,_ Anima thought.

 _Pulling weeds? You? Why? Wait… where are you?_ Daianya thought. _What haven’t you told me? I can feel the deception from here._

 _We’re on Vanaheim, in the Dark Forest, helping a hunter clear out her vegetable garden,_ Nal thought, _It’s not important._

“Are you alright?” Norbleen asked her as they climbed into the carriage, “For a second there you looked… exasperated?”

Daianya forced her expression back to one that radiated calmness and tranquillity. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just thinking about what my sisters are getting up to while I’m gone.”

“Dorgen’s like that,” Norbleen said, “Take your eyes off him and he’ll find new ways of getting into mischief.”

“To be fair on my sisters, it’s usually Loki’s fault,” Daianya said.

Norbleen looked interested. “I’ve never really met him properly. He’s come to Vanaheim a few times, but never as a guest of the court, and the one time I did speak to him was at your coming of age celebration and he and I were both circulating as best we could through the crowds. I’ve heard stories though.”

“Everyone has heard stories,” Daianya said, “The more outrageous ones are told by Loki himself.”

“Are they true?” Norbleen asked.

“Some of them _definitely_ are, but for the sake of your sanity don’t try to work out which ones, they will not be the ones you expect,” Daianya said.

“I heard about the horse,” Norbleen said, “Uh… true or…?”

“True. Extremely true,” Daianya said.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Oh wow.”

“I know.”

“That’s…”

“Take it in, give yourself a minute.”

“And he is still allowed back to the court?”

Daianya laughed. “Of course he is! He is Father’s blood brother. Nothing short of a full breaking of their vows of brotherhood could banish him. That’s why King Bor gets so frustrated all the time.”

Norbleen chuckled. “King Bor sounds a little bit like my father,” he said.

“He values fighting skill and strength over beauty, but I can see some similarities in the base personality,” Daianya said.

The carriage pulled up by a large fountain in a central square. Norbleen opened the door and climbed out, turning to hold his hand out for Daianya to take. “And which do you like? Strength or beauty?” he asked.

Daianya took his hand and stepped out onto the cobblestones of the square. “I like people to be themselves,” she said. 

Norbleen shook his head. “That’s never going to happen in a royal court,” he said, “Too many agendas all happening at once.”

“That’s what happens when courts get too big,” Daianya said, “It starts to rot from the inside.”

“A good king can remove the rot,” Norbleen said.

“In that case I hope you make a very good king one day,” Daianya replied.


	40. Axes and Snakes

Nal stood at the edge of the dark forest with a look of wonder in her eyes.

“The trees here are so old,” she said, “They’ve stood for thousands of years, and will stand for thousands more.”

“They say the whole continent was once covered with them, back in the times before we were united as a people,” Glornia said, handing her a torch, “I’m a natural sceptic but there’s something about the way they suck away everything familiar once you get out there that makes me believe it.”

“The Vanir people supposedly evolved from climbing ancestors,” Anima said, “Unlike the Aesir, whose ancestors favoured caves and rocks and running over the ground.”

“Explains why we’re usually longer and skinnier,” Glornia said, “Come on, let’s head into the darkness.”

She turned her torch on and led the way forwards. 

“I remember seeing a rather pure-blooded Vanir once,” Loki said as they walked away from the light of the settlement, “Six foot six and gangly, with quite pale skin and larger eyes than you typically see around these days.”

“That sounds like the ancestors,” Glornia said, “Where did you see them?”

“In a tomb,” Loki said, “she’d been dead for a few hundred thousand years.”

“What were you doing in a Vanir tomb?” Nal asked him.

“Well I _was_ there to rob it of an extremely powerful amulet on behalf of King Dickhead who offered me a large amount of money to do so, but it wasn’t there, so I just had a look around and went home,” Loki said.

“King Dickhead engaged you as a grave-robber?” Glornia asked, sounding disgusted.

“It was during the Titan war,” Loki said, “Had it been there it would have been helpful for the fight.”

“I wonder what happened to it?” Anima said.

Loki’s torch moved in a way that suggested he had shrugged. “If the sorcerer was smart she would have slipped it into a seidr fold not long before dying, where it will stay unmolested for the rest of time… unless someone figures out how to unfold a dead person’s seidr.”

“I bet it can be done,” Anima said. “Seidr folds are still just numbers, find a way to run them in reverse and it’ll undo. The trick would be finding it in the first place, because unless you were present when it was cast you’d have a rough time figuring out exactly where they put it.”

Nal, meanwhile, had ignored their conversation in favour of the trees. She was gently touching each trunk as she passed by, letting their code speak to her.

“They’re quite diverse for something that looks so homogenous,” she said.

“What?” Glornia said.

“The trees, they are very diverse on the inside. It makes them stronger overall.”

“I’m… happy for them?” Glornia said, “Now, I’m going to check my traps, so follow me and if you lose sight of the light _stop moving_ and just wait with your torch on and call out every ten seconds or so. It can be hard to spot light even in this darkness because of the thickness of the trees, so the sound will help me find you.”

They walked in a silent line behind her as she led them deeper and deeper into the forest. Nal and Loki both rested their hands against every tree they passed. As the darkness became complete and the sound began to fade until the only thing they could hear was their footsteps, the feelings they picked up from the trees began to change.

“Moss,” whispered Nal, “and I swear there’s a climbing plant here somewhere, I can read it when I touch the bark but it’s so thin and delicate I can’t feel it with my hand.”

“You can feel the shadow-climbers?” Glornia asked, making them all jump.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Anima whispered.

“No, but there’s no reason not to be other than intimidation, and I don’t intimidate easily,” Glornia said.

“Are shadow-climbers important?” Loki asked, resting his hand against the trunk Nal had been touching.

“They’re high in protein and have anti-bacterial properties, good for use in poultices and healing,” Glornia said, “But bloody hard to find because they are so delicate and practically see-through. If you’ve found one I’ll take some back with me.”

She pulled out a knife and by the light of the torch began carefully lifting the shadow-climber away from the bark.

“Is the Dark Forrest everything you were hoping for?” Loki asked Nal as they stood and waited fro Glornia to finish.

“It lives up to its name very well,” Nal said, “And Glornia was right, it _is_ full of life, if you know where to look for it.”

“As much as I wish to encourage you in that regard, I feel I need to do the responsible thing and remind you that only Jotun women are supposed to know about code-reading,” Loki murmured to her. “I understand your sisters, and I trust them fully, but openly sensing code in front of strangers is not encouraged.”

Nal looked up at him with a serious expression. “Maybe being too strange is the reason no one trusts Jotnir,” she said, “Maybe a little sharing would help us all.”

Loki looked doubtful, “Asgardians and Vanir both have a very dim view of a woman who uses a man’s seed to have a child without his consent. It’s far more likely that they’ll see what Jotun women do as some kind of wicked violation of their trust.”

“Even if the child is only slightly theirs?” Nal asked.

“Even then, Jotnir men see it as the highest honour, and the more of their code use for a child the better, but Asgardians and Vanir are alien to the idea completely, and so those who have found out about it in the past have rejected it, sometimes violently,” Loki said, “They see it as stealing; please just be careful in front of other people, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“You’re too late for that, I’ve already been attacked,” Nal said, “But I have decided to learn how to defend myself and intend to start as soon as we get back.”

“Queen Bestla is going to teach you how to fight?” Loki asked, sounding surprised.

“No,” Nal said, confused, “I engaged a Vanir teacher to teach me how to defend myself even while wearing a skirt. Vanir fighting is more suited to ladies because they all wear long robes instead of pants.”

“Don’t you want to learn how to fight like a Jotun?” Loki asked.

“ _No_ ,” Nal said firmly, “Did you see the burns I left on the man who attacked me?”

“Yes, and they were well earned,” Loki said.

“Did you see the faces of the crowds when they saw them?” Nal asked. “I don’t want to learn to fight like a Jotun, I want to learn to fight in a way that _doesn’t_ make me even more hated.”

Loki sighed softly, “Petal, I’m so sorry you have to deal with all that crap. People are so stupid.”

“I know,” Nal said, “That’s why I don’t like most of them.”

Glornia finished what she was doing and turned around. “That was a good find,” she said, “Magic?”

“Yes,” Loki said, before Nal could speak, “all of us have it to varying degrees. Let’s keep going.”

They continued on their way, and under the protection of the silence and the dark Nal allowed her true feelings of sadness to show on her face. Too Jotun for Asgard, not Jotun enough for Jotunheim, Loki was right about one thing, it was _crap_.

****

Daianya had to admit, she was having fun. Norbleen had shown her the major sights of the city for an hour, before breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Well that’s that done, if Father asks you tonight you’ll be able to tell him I did my duty and showed you all the pretty things. Now, what do you actually like to do?”

Daianya laughed. “Me? I like sparring, but I can’t imagine where we could do that here.”

Norbleen grinned. “I know a place that’ll let us swing some axes. It’s not exactly sparring but it is a lot of fun.”

“Oh please, do lead the way,” Daianya said.

He took her to a converted house just off the main street. The front room had been turned into a check-in, and the back had been opened up into several long rooms with targets on the back wall.

Norbleen picked up an axe and handed it to Daianya.

“You first,” he said, “I want to see what I am up against.”

She grinned and pulled back her arm. Even in the slightly restrictive sleeves of her dress she felt confident in her form.

She threw, and the axe spun through the air and slammed into the target hard enough to stick several inches into the centre.

“Nice,” Norbleen said.

His throw landed alongside hers, although not buried quite as deep.

They fetched the axes and lined up again.

“So you are all about the military life?” Norbleen asked her.

“I want to be a Valkyrie,” Daianya said. “No, I want to be the _General_ of the Valkyrie, but only when I’ve earned it.

“I’ve been in training since I was young,” Norbleen said, “Then I did a turn with the army at the tail end of the Titan war. Father worried about me the whole time but I wanted to see for myself what war was like. One day it will be me sending our warriors off to battle, I should at least understand the consequences.”

“And do you?” Daianya asked, “What did you think of war once you saw it?”

“I thought it was a terrible waste of life and energy,” Norbleen said, “But I also don’t think the Titans left us any options, at every step of the way we tried to make peace or at least some kind of terms, but they just kept sending men to attack us instead.”

“I was too young to see war when it happened,” Daianya said, “But I’ve seen a battle, and helped collect and clean the dead, I agree with you, war is sometimes necessary, but it’s always a waste.”

“I forgot the Valkyrie clear the battlefield,” Norbleen said, “Is it a hard thing to face?”

“Yes,” Daianya said, “But if we didn’t then they’d be left to lie alone like discarded meat, and even though I know their souls are gone it’s still not something we, as a people, should ever do to our fallen.”

She threw her axe again. The target split down the centre on impact.

“I’ll get us a new target,” Norbleen said.

****

The Dark Forest had a way of making people slowly go mad with panic. It was the quiet; nothing moved in the stillness other than the four hikers, and no matter how quiet they tried to be their footsteps echoed out around them, making them wince every time a twig snapped or a rock moved.

“Here we are,” Glornia said, making them all jump again, “Oh look! I got a beauty of a Black Creeper!”

The Black Creeper turned out to be a kind of snake. It was curled up in the base of her trap, looking annoyed.

“They slither along the ground and wrap around you tightly. Once you suffocate they try to eat you. Problem is they’re not big enough to eat something as big as us, so if they do wrap around you it’s usually by accident,” Glornia said, “They taste pretty good once roasted.”

“What do you do if you get caught in one?” Anima asked her.

“Scream really loudly if you can. It’ll take the air out of your lungs, but they can’t stand loud noises – look at the way this one is shifting to get away from me – either it’ll let you go or you’ll die faster, either way better than a slow, suffering death as you struggle for each breath.”

“He looks delightful,” Loki said, “Not a patch on my darling boy though, but then again, who is?”

“You have a pet snake?” Glornia asked.

“Yes,” Loki deadpanned.

She pulled out a long blade – almost long enough to be a sword – from her belt and approached the trap. She stabbed down at the snake’s neck. It thrashed in response and tried to wrap around her arm but she pulled it out in time and pulled out another blade as the first one disappeared within the snake’s coils. She lined up her strike carefully and brought the blade down, cutting into the snake’s side and slicing deeply. The snake reacted first to her blow, and then to the sword it had wrapped around cutting in as it tightened around it.

It uncoiled quickly and tried to strike, but Glornia pulled back and the sides of the trap kept the snake from getting out. She struck it again as quickly as she could and cut something vital. The snake’s body began to thrash randomly in the throes of death. 

“We’ll eat well tonight,” Glornia said, “Anything in the other trap?” 

There was nothing. She shrugged and hauled out the dead snake. “Here,” she said to Loki, “You carry it.”

Loki opened a seidr fold and shoved the snake inside. “I’m great at carrying things,” he said.

“God of it?” Nal asked.

“Sure, why not?” Loki replied.

They walked on to the next trap, Nal tried to read every tree on the way in case she found more plants that were hidden against the enormous trunks. She picked up several seeds that she found by touch as well.

“I wonder how one of these giants would go in the Tree Garden?” she said.

“Tree Garden?” Loki asked.

“The new one I’m planning; it’s going to be a garden of trees and climbing plants, surrounded by lawn for people to walk from one to the other. I’ve got it all planned out in my head and I’d love to incorporate one of these beauties,” Nal said.

“I doubt you’re going to find a sapling,” Loki said, “Where do you think their seeds are?”

“Knowing my luck, probably in the topmost branches,” Nal said.

Loki looked up. “You know,” he said in a very casual tone, “I do have a device that could get us up there.”

“Correction,” Nal said, trying not to smile, “You _did_ have a device that could get us up there. Anima took it when we stopped at that trap and has taken it to Midgard.”

Loki opened a seidr fold and put a hand into it with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“She stole my shiny,” he said, “Frankly, I’m impressed.”

“The second you opened a fold in front of her she started studying your technique. I guess she used it to figure out the most likely place you would put the tesseract. She’s on Midgard now, she’s fine and she’ll meet us back at the tavern tonight so we can go to the feast,” Nal said.


	41. Lunch In Other Realms

Anima appeared in the forest on Midgard and immediately turned around, trying to get her bearings. It had been two years since she’d set foot on Midgard and it took her a minute to figure out which way to walk.

She set off in what she thought was the right direction, stepping over fallen branches and crunching leaves underfoot. The moment Loki had put the snake into a Seidr fold she’d started looking ‘nearby’ to see if he, like many magic users, created their folds close to one another. It made sense that they would. Each fold was a new spell, so altering it only slightly in order to keep things separate also allowed the person to reach back inside more easily. It was like having passcodes that were all the same except for the last digit.

Anima was no different, although now that she’d robbed _Loki_ of all people she was thinking she might work harder on making her seidr folds as varied as possible.

She heard voices from in front of her and slowed down; they sounded male and aggressive.

Anima concentrated, and after thirty seconds she became invisible. Well hidden, she crept closer, wanting to see what was going on.

There were three boys there – and they were boys, they looked about fifteen – and they had surrounded Niler and were taunting him. No matter which way he turned there was always one behind him, who would reach out and pull at his clothes or slap him on the back.

“Will you three just go away!” he said angrily, “I’m an old man, go and do something useful.”

They laughed and the one behind him leapt forwards again.

“One day you’ll be old, gods’ willing, and then you will have stupid boys to deal with,” Niler grumbled.

“Are you calling me stupid?” one of the boys asked, stepping forwards and giving Niler a shove.

He tumbled backwards and lost his footing, falling own hard on the ground.

“Hey!” 

The yell came from the other side of the clearing. Senan jumped forwards and swung his staff, catching the boy in the stomach and making him drop. “Get out of here, you pack of rats!” he snapped.

They didn’t back off. The boy who had been hit got to his feet and sneered. “Oh look, the fairy-lover. Where’s your fairy princess? Where’d she go? Tell me, is the madness catching?”

“I don’t know about madness,” Anima said, appearing before them and making them gasp, “but magic sure is.”

She raised her hands and started chanting, which was not strictly necessary but it did make them fall back in sudden fear.

“Ani!” Senan exclaimed, “You came back!”

Anima finished chanting and pointed a finger. The three boys all turned into female goats.

“I’ve really got to work out how to make male ones,” she said as the trio bleated in terror and ran away.

Senan was helping Niler to his feet. “Come on, Old Man, you know you shouldn’t walk the forest without me,” he said.  
“I used to walk here every day,” Niler said, “Times have changed. I’ve gotten older, boys have gotten younger. People don’t fear magic the way they used to.”

“You don’t have any magic,” Senan said.

“They didn’t know that,” Niler said, before starting to cough.

Anima took his other arm and she and Senan walked Niler back to the hut.

“You found a way to visit?” Senan asked her as they walked.

“I borrowed the tesseract,” Anima said.

“Borrowed?”

“Stole, but the person I stole it from won’t mind, and the vault _he_ stole it from hasn’t noticed it’s gone yet. If we put it back before they do it’ll be like it never happened.” 

Senan grinned at her. “Ani, you’ve got a mischievous streak a mile an’ a half wide.”

“I missed seeing you,” Anima admitted.

“Oh great,” Niler grumbled, “We’re back to that, are we? And what did it take you, a minute?”

Senan and Anima both blushed and looked away from each other.

“Are those boys going to turn back any time soon?” Senan asked, after a few seconds of silence.

“In about an hour,” Anima said. “I can extend it?”

“As delightful as that would be, one of them, the one who didn’t get is clothes dirty, is the son of the Lord. If he’s missin’ for long then they’ll be more than boys wanderin’ these woods,” Senan said.

“Is everything alright here?” Anima asked. “I know you were banished but that mostly seemed like you got to live in peace, now it sounds like things are growing more hostile.”

“There’s trouble brewin’ over in the north,” Senan said. “A rival king with ambitions has taken his men on raids to some of the outer villages of our King’s kingdom. The men are tense, the boys are restless, they’ll be a battle soon I think, and that’ll settle things again.”

“What if your King doesn’t win the battle?” Anima asked.

Senan looked doubtful. “He’s the strongest king in the land,” he said. “This new guy’s not got half the men King Ailbe’s got,” Senan said.

Anima wasn’t as convinced as Senan. She had heard of too many conflicts going the wrong way due to circumstance or bad luck to be confident in the outcome of a battle before it was fought.

“If you need help, I want you to call for me,” she said, “I’ll find a way to get help for you, weapons, armour, food for your king’s men, whatever you need, alright?”

“That’s a kind offer, Ani, but I’m sure we won’t be needin’ it,” Senan said. “King Ailbe’ll handle it.”

They reached the hut and helped Niler inside, where he lay down to rest. Then they headed back out into the sunshine.

“He’s a weak man now,” Senan said, “I think he won’t make it to the winter.”

“He’s a lot frailer than the last time I saw him,” Anima said, “I could try and get a potion to heal him, or something like that.”

“I’m sure it would ease his comfort, but I feel as though he’s fadin’ somehow, and I don’t think takin’ the ache from is bones will stop it,” Senan said. “Although that’s just a feelin’, I’m not too sure whether my feelin’s can be trusted.”

“No, I know what you mean. His life-force his almost depleted,” Anima said, “Even a mortal in the best, strongest, most healthy form of their life won’t live beyond what their life-force allows them. He’s got about a decade left if I find a way to heal him, but… “

“I’m not convinced he wants to stay a decade,” Senan said, “All his family is gone, and most nights when he speaks of them he sounds like he wants to join them.”

“It must be hard to be left behind,” Anima said, “Harder even than going first, I’m starting to think.”

They stood there in the silence of thought for a few long seconds, before Senan shook his head to chase away his dark thoughts.

“Will you stay for lunch?” He asked her, “I’m just making up a stew.”

“That sounds lovely,” Anima said, “I wish I had something to offer but my opportunity was sudden and I didn’t have anything packed.”

“If you do figure out a way to visit again, I’d dearly love a date or two,” Senan said.

“I’ll try to get you some,” Anima said.

“Oh the fruit? Yeah, that’d be nice too,” Senan said, making her blush.

****

Odin sat in one of the carefully cultivated gardens within the palace of Vanaheim and nibbled on a cake. All around him, a dozen or so ladies from the court were seated, or walking by, or playing ladylike games, and all of them kept flashing him discrete glances in order to see if they had attracted his attention.

It’d be funny if it wasn’t so tedious.

Helda had been his father’s choice, but Bor had known his son quite well and, while they didn’t fall in love, they could at least keep a conversation going about mutual interests.

Yrsa had been an instant kind of love, a fire and lightning, hearts crashing together, wild kind of love that left him breathless and laughing. Their conversations had been more about battle tactics than books, and they’d never gotten the opportunity to hold one another during quiet moments.

The ladies trying to attract his attention were probably all very lovely. At least some of them would genuinely have shared interests with him, and perhaps a few from that group would also be a good partner or future queen.

Odin just wasn’t interested.

He missed Yrsa still. He missed the way she flew into the sky on gusts of magic. He missed her whispering into his ear about the battle plans his father made, offering her opinion which was both insightful and intelligent.

He missed holding her.

Nevertheless, Odin had successfully managed to keep Dimcken and Boaldia’s attention on him rather than Daianya, which was all he had really wanted.

“Will you take another glass of wine?” Queen Boaldia asked him.

“No, thank you, I have had enough,” Odin said politely.

Time to keep up the appearance of interest.

“I think I’d like to take a walk, those cakes were delicious but cannot be any good for keeping me in fighting condition,” he said, “Do you think there is anyone who would enjoy showing me around?”

Seven of the women leaned forward; five of them feigned careful indifference.

“Lady Tannier knows a great deal about the history of these garden,” Queen Boaldia said, naming a favourite, “I’m sure she’d be happy to walk with you.”

Odin looked over to where Lady Tannier was seated. She stood up and gave him a bow.

Oh well, maybe she would turn out to be just what his father wanted. There was only one way to find out.

Odin gave her a polite smile and rose form his chair. “I’d be delighted to hear all about the history of the garden, I’m sure it is fascinating,” he said.

She took his arm with a smile and he let her lead him down the pathway, noting that as they walked she didn’t turn back to look at the other women.

‘Good,’ Odin thought, spiteful triumph was not something he wanted in a potential queen.

****

Loki, Nal and Glornia made their way back through the Dark Forest after checking all of her traps. Glornia had to be convinced by the other two that Anima had not gotten lost, but rather had teleported out under her own power.

“Sorcerers,” she had muttered when they told her, “Always making life difficult.”

Once they reached the settlement again, Loki led Nal to a small establishment on the other side to where the tavern sat.

“This is the only other place in town where you can get a drink,” Loki said, “It’s newer, and unfortunately needed because this place keeps getting bigger because of King Dickhead.”

“Is he that bad of a ruler? I’ve never heard anyone complain about him,” Nal said.

“He’s no worse than Bor, mostly,” Loki said, waving down the server and holding up two fingers to order, “But he’s a bit harsh when it comes to personal criticism. A lot of these people are here because they said something bad about him and his ego couldn’t stand it. Others are here because they broke the law but didn’t deserve the penalty they got. It’s not the nicest place in Vanaheim, but it’s liveable.”

“King’s should be just,” Nal said.

“They _should_ be but many of them aren’t. That’s what happens when they give you the job based on who your father is,” Loki said.

“As opposed to who your mother is?” Nal challenged.

“That’s different,” Loki said.

“In what way?”

“When Bor specifically crafts and births all his own subjects to be exactly what he wants them to be then he can rule them however he likes,” Loki said, “Until then, I maintain that anyone born under an unjust king has the right to reject said king’s rule if they feel it’s not in their best interests.”

“I still think ruling by right of blood is a recipe for eventual disaster,” Nal said.

“Jotun kings don’t rule by right of blood,” Loki said.

“How do they do it?” Nal asked.

“They have their own rituals – oh good, here’s lunch – which are very secretive and special.”

Nal sighed and picked up her fork, “What rituals?” she asked, “Are you going to tell me women aren’t allowed to know?”

“On the contrary, to be a King of Jotunheim you have to enter the Cave of Kings, go all the way to the end, and come out alive. It’s the last part so many of them have trouble with,” Loki said.

“What’s in the Cave of Kings?” Nal asked.

“If I knew that I’d be one,” Loki said. “Only the King or his heirs know the answer, because they are the only ones who have seen it. I have no interest in being a king otherwise I’d have gone to have a little look myself back in the day.”

“I’m sure disinterest is the only reason,” Nal said dryly.

Loki smiled and shrugged, “As much as I love a good secret, the rules would put me in the line of succession, and the last thing I want is to be king of Jotunheim. For one thing I think they make you live there.”

“Can’t you get one of the other heirs to do it?” Nal asked.

“Only if there is one; it’s not an easy trial to face, Petal, and there have been more than a few periods of time where Jotunheim had no king at all.”

“What happened then?” Nal asked.

“Chaos, mostly; without a firm ruler to get behind the men who would follow a king start to form their own factions, which then attack other factions, who then retaliate. I believe Bestla has a story about one of the times the chaos got too much, you should hear it from her though, she tells it better.”

“I’ll ask her when we return,” Nal said.

“Is Puppy okay? Having fun on Midgard like the traitorous thief she is?” Loki asked jokingly.

“She’s having stew,” Nal said.

“She could teleport herself there to have stew every week if she would just embrace her status as the Goddess of Magic,” Loki said.

“You seem very convinced of something that has literally never happened before,” Nal said, “Only Asgardians and Aesir have ever been gods.”

“Until me,” Loki said, “I’m a Jotun and a god.”

“The god of what, exactly?” Nal asked.

“Patience,” Loki said.

“Of all the things you’ve claimed to be the god of I believe that one the least,” Nal said.

“No, I mean, have patience and maybe one day I’ll tell you,” Loki said with a twinkle in his eye.


	42. A Time of No Kings

Two days later Daianya stood at the Bifrost site and said her goodbyes to Norbleen.

“It was fun,” she said.

“Maybe if you come back I can show you some of the further afield places like the Falls of the Spritefolk, or the Volcano,” he said.

“Vanaheim has a volcano? An active one?” Daianya asked.

“Oh yes,” King Dimcken butted in, “If you like we can arrange a visit out there, it’s quite far from the capital but we can take a flyer and be there in a few days if we travel at speed.”

“I’m sure that would make a wonderful trip,” Odin said, “Perhaps next time we visit, in a few years.”

“You are always welcome to come back sooner, your Grace,” Dimcken said to Odin, but he was looking at Daianya.

“Perhaps the next time you and your queen visit us, Prince Norbleen here can come along and see some of Asgard,” Odin offered, making Dimcken’s eyes light up.

“Yes, yes, that would be wonderful,” he said.

Odin bowed, Dimcken bowed, everyone else bowed, Dorgen crossed his eyes at Daianya as he straightened up, and then at last it was time to call the Bifrost.

As the light came down around her and pulled her up and away, Daianya breathed a sigh of relief. She’d made it through the whole visit without embarrassing herself or her father, and she’d even managed to have some fun and make a friend.

Norbleen had asked if it was alright if he wrote to her; no one had ever asked her that before.

****

When she arrived back at her bedroom she found Anima waiting for her.

“I’m ready to cast the spell you wanted, to make your armour appear on you,” she said, “I thought we could do it after dinner.”

“Sure,” Daianya said, dropping her bag on her bed, “How was Vanaheim?”

“Aren’t I meant to be asking you that?” Anima said. 

Daianya just looked at her.

“It was okay. The Dark Forest was really more Nal’s thing than mine, but I solved that by ducking out to Midgard about halfway through.”

“You went to Midgard?!” Daianya exclaimed, “After you were specifically told not to?”

“You don’t sound upset,” Anima said.

“That’s because I’m trying not to laugh,” Daianya said, “Honestly, what was Father thinking trying to keep you from doing whatever you liked?”

“He was thinking that the Weapons’ Vault security would be enough to keep me out,” Anima said, “And he was right, but Uncle Loki’s magic was much easier to get around.”

“If Loki can get around the Weapons’ Vault security then I’m guessing you definitely can,” Daianya said.

“It’s not the spells, I can see how to block or neutralise them easily enough,” Anima said, “It’s the speed at which they cast. I can’t do everything I need to all at once.”

Daianya looked at her sister quite seriously for a moment. “I think you can,” she said, “There’s no Sorcerer in this realm as powerful as you are, no one can cast spells as precisely, or as efficiently. I honestly think fear is the only thing holding you back.”

“You sound like Uncle Loki,” Anima said.

“I think he’s right,” Daianya said, “And I think you will never feel truly satisfied until you have let go and really pushed your limits,” – Anima flinched at the thought – “but no one can do that for you.”

“I’m going to go and take a bath,” Anima said abruptly, “I need to get the smell of Midgardian forest off me.”

She left the room quickly, leaving a slightly sad Daianya to unpack alone.

****

Loki peered carefully around the corner and scoped out the scene before him. Two guards visible; that meant there were four unaccounted for.

He concentrated and his body become one with the shadows. With great care he slipped out from behind the pillar and made his way silently down past the first two guards, counting beats in his head so that he arrived at the door just as it opened and a guard stepped out. Loki slipped past him through the open door and immediately to the left. The security spell almost activated but he sent a counter spell wafting across the trigger mechanism which stopped it cold. The backup immediately began, and Loki neutralised it with a wave, before immediately turning to send another counter-spell back to the first one, which has begun casting the backup sell. All of this was done from behind a pillar, so as not to be given away by the red light of his magic as he cast. 

He made a little shuffle to the next pillar and a quick peek to check on the guards remaining inside the vault. They were wandering around casually, completely unaware of his presence. Another shuffle and he was level with Mjolnir, Odin’s weapon of choice for battle, which had rested in the silence and calm of the vault since the end of the Titan War.

Loki eyed it thoughtfully; it would be such a _tempting_ prank to leave it on Odin’s pillow, and then on his toilet, and then in his office. “It _misses_ you,” he would say, and Odin would throw it at him… probably.

Soooo tempting.

But no. He was here to return what was taken, not take more, not this time. Loki slipped onwards, before moving quickly into the centre of the room just as the guards began their wander down the sides.

He crossed carefully until he reached the pillar just before the Eternal Flame. Bloody Flame wasn’t fooled by something as simple as an invisibility spell. If its light touched him then his shadow would still appear on the floor. He waited in silence for the guards to reach just the right part of their route, and ducked quickly across to the other side.

And there was the tesseract. A beautifully fake image even if Loki did say so himself, which he, naturally, did.

He checked on the location of the guards again before carefully pulling the real thing from his pocket and sliding it back on the dais where it was supposed to be. Then he ended the fake image spell and ducked quickly back into the shadows.

There was no sound other than the guard’s footsteps; no one had noticed.

Loki made his way back just as carefully, at one point climbing halfway up a wall so that the guard could pass below him rather than risk getting bumped into. Not getting caught meant that he could do it again one day, and there were so many things he could think of that he wanted to do with the tesseract, now that he knew what it was capable of.

He waited by the door of the vault for the guard to come back in, and slipped past like the wind. And then it was just a matter of making his way back up to the public area of the palace.

He stepped out into the cool evening air and smiled. He loved it when a heist went off without a hitch.

A knife slammed into his back, throwing him forwards and sending him tumbling down the stairs in front of him.

Hela looked down from the top of the stairs and grinned. She turned away to go to the feast, oh the fun that would be had when the body was found.

A few minutes after she had gone, Loki got to his feet with a loud groan. “Ow,” He said to the open air as he, with a certain amount of difficulty, pulled the knife out of his back and examined the blood on the tip of the blade, “I am going to need a lot more padding,” he said thoughtfully.

**** 

The feast that night saw Bor in a cheerful mood. He grinned broadly as Odin walked in, and spared a nod of greeting for Daianya.

“And how was old Dimcken?” he asked, ignoring that fact that Dimcken was actually younger than he was.

“Same as always, in good health and fine spirits,” Odin said.

“And you, Daianya, did you enjoy your first royal visit?” Bor asked her.

Daianya nodded. “Prince Norbleen showed me all around the city,” she said.

“Good,’ Bor said, “Good.”

“Why don’t you just hurry up and betroth her to him?” Hela asked from her seat, “It’s what Dimcken wants and Norbleen’s the most logical choice for her.”

Bor shook his head, “She’s barely of age, there’s plenty of time yet,” he said, “Did you like him, Granddaughter?”

Daianya looked down, unsure of how to answer.

“Don’t stress yourself, I know what women are like when they’re put on the spot,” Bor said, “I’ll just assume you didn’t hate the sight of him, otherwise you would have said something already.”

He turned away and Daianya sank into her seat gratefully. It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ like him, she just didn’t like him, not yet anyway, a few days was hardly long enough to know if you liked a person.

Odin meanwhile was updating Bor on marriage state of the ladies of the Vanir court.

“Good to see you’re taking my advice seriously,” Bor said to him.

“Advice?” Hela asked.

“To remarry,” Bor said, “I don’t like seeing my son alone in life.”

“I wish you’d said something sooner, King,” said Loki, popping up like magic from behind him. Bor rolled his eyes and groaned heavily as Hela’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I know a lovely lady, raised by witches, still studying the art, got a few more decades to go before she’s done but you don’t seem to be in a rush, noble, of course, but very practical and possessing of a very kind soul, you should let me introduce you the next time you go to Vanaheim.”

“Anyone you know is bound to be the worst possible choice,” Bor said.

“Are you feeling quite well, Uncle?” Hela asked him.

Loki grinned at her, “Never better Hela darling and I missed you too.” He turned back to Odin, “Brother, I implore you, let me introduce you the next time you are in Vanaheim,” he said.

“Blood brother,” Bor muttered.

Hela was trying as unobtrusively as she was able to get a look at the back of his coat.

“I’ll meet anyone,” Odin said to Loki, wondering vaguely why his eldest daughter was straining her neck out like that, “but I do not promise to like her.”

****

Daianya pulled on the last of her armour and tightened the strap while Anima set out her spell ingredients.

“Are you sure everything is on right? Do you feel comfortable?” Anima asked.

“I’m sure, and I do. Is that important?”

“It’s going to reappear every time in exactly the same way, if anything is wrong, fix it now.”

Daianya gave a few little jumps on the spot and wriggled her shoulders. “It feels good,” she said.

“Okay, stand completely still, this is going to take over an hour,” Anima said. “Do you want to put on some music or something?”

Daianya went to the small control panel on the wall and pressed a few buttons, a recording of a popular program began to play.

“That one is always good to watch,” Anima said, “Nice and mindless, even the bad episodes are pretty good.”

Daianya settled on her feet and stared at the recording while Anima began to concentrate. 

****

Nal walked her grandmother back to her rooms in the underground part of the palace after the feast. She always felt better after speaking to her grandmother and after talking to Loki about Jotun kings she was burning with curiosity.

“Do you know what’s in the Cave of Kings?” she asked.

“No, my dear, no one other than the kings themselves know the secret. All we know is that a king can shape ice faster, stronger and more skilfully than any other Jotun. They can make whole buildings appear in seconds, they can make goblets so thin and beautifully decorated with no sign of effort… they can make a blade so thin that it almost look invisible, and imbue it with such strength that it can slice clean through regular armour,” Bestla said, “They gain this power in the Cave of Kings, but only those who go to the end, those that turn back do not get the skill, and many more simply die on their way down.”

“How can they make it so strong?” Nal asked, “It’s just ice.”

“On the contrary, ice shaped by Jotun hands is imbued with the strength of the Jotun who made it. Make a cup for me, dear,” Bestla said.

Nal concentrated and formed a cup of ice. It was rough and lumpy like all Jotun ice-shaping, but it would hold a cup’s worth of wine or ale without any trouble. Bestla concentrated and did the same. Her cup seemed to take far more effort and grew more slowly than Nal’s.

“Look at these cups,” she said, holding them up, “They are identical to look at, the same thickness of rim, the same stumpy stem, the same size in the hand… but one has been made by a strong, young, healthy, woman, and the other has been made by someone who was born broken.”

She dropped them. The two cups hit the hard floor at the same time. Nal’s cup bounced and rattled across the tiles without so much as a chip or a scratch; Bestla’s cup shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Jotun warriors fight with ice because it is always with them, their knives are as strong as steel, their shields can withstand a great many blows, it is not just ice that they put into them, it is a sense of self, an extension of their power,” Bestla explained.

“But it’s still ice,” Nal said.

“Oh yes, it’s still ice. Unless the battle is fought in the snow in the morning it will have melted away into puddles,” Bestla said, “But while it lasts it is strong, and the king’s ice is the strongest and finest of all, no rough lumpy shapes for him, _his_ goblet would be as delicate as crystal.”

“Loki said that if you return alive from the Cave of Kings then you become the king’s heir,” Nal said.

“Indeed, and those who are his heirs may challenge him for the throne immediately, or, far more often, will take it when he dies.”

“What if there’s more than one?” Nal asked.

“A battle of skill determines the winner.”

“To the death?”

“Not always, some Jotun men were made with sensible heads. Sometimes the loser can see the way the battle is going and surrenders. They are still the heir to the king, so I suppose they feel waiting is better than dying.”

“What happens if there is no king?” Nal asked.

Bestla smiled, “Come and sit by the water, child, I will tell you a story.”

Nal immediately sat down and made herself comfortable.

“I will tell you the story of the time of three Generals,” Bestla said. “It was long ago, far before my time, and the king of Jotunheim, King Jorey, was very old and very sick. No one had returned from the Cave of Kings in so long, that he had no heir to follow him, and so he called his three generals to his bedside and bid them to rule together once he was gone, until the day a new king emerged from the Cave. They swore on their honour that this would be done, and when they swore, the stories say, the ice beneath the feet of the first general cracked, because he was lying in his oath. When the second general swore, the ground trembled, because he too was lying to his king. The third general also swore, but for him there was no change, for he hoped, although he still greatly doubted, that the king’s final command could be carried out.”

Nal leaned in more closely, caught up completely in Bestla’s story.

“What happened when he died?” she asked.

“The first general took his brothers and those who thought he was strongest and formed one army. The second general took _his_ brothers and those who thought he was strongest and formed another army, and the third general took his brothers, and all those who were left, and left the ice plains of the motherless men and took to the mountains in search of safety.

They travelled many miles, through hardship and pain. They almost starved, and many fell ill, but at last they arrived at the gates of the stronghold of the third general’s niece, his mother’s granddaughter, and he begged her for shelter and food for his men. Never before had a woman been asked to intervene in the fates of men – truly most seem to prefer to take their chances – but the third general was desperate, and his niece, Mortara, had a kindness to her heart. She told the third general that she would feed and shelter his men if he journeyed to the glacier where the dead kings lay and collected a piece from each of them. He agreed to her terms, and left that day. He travelled over mountains and fought wild animals, he slept in rough caves he fashioned for himself, and when at last he reached the glacier, he walked among the kings of old, including King Jorey, who had been laid there by the three of them as a last act of solidarity, and he took from each of them a piece.”

“What did Mortara want with the pieces?” Nal asked, a little nervously.

Bestla gave her a knowing look.

“Please don’t tell me she ate them,” Nal said.

“The story does not say, but she _did_ read their codes, all of their codes, and that night, in the quiet of her stronghold, she created a child who would be a king, and from the very first day she named him Frith.”

“How?” Nal said, “How did she know what to give him? Was there something all the kings had in common?”

“We do not know, we only know that the fighting between the first two generals lasted eight hundred years while the child she birthed grew to adulthood. When he was ready, she gave him up to the care of his uncle, and together they made their way to the Cave of Kings. Frith entered the Cave unafraid, and in one full day he emerged with the powers of kingship. He walked to the first general and showed him his power, and the first general fell to his knees. As punishment for defying the last king, King Frith executed him on the spot, and the general’s men came to his side. Then he walked to the second general and showed his power, and the second general also fell to his knees, and was executed for breaking his oath. Once again the men of the land had peace, and King Frith, being the youngest king of all of history, ruled for more than five thousand years, plenty of time for more heirs to be found.”

“Why didn’t any of the generals try to become the king by trying the Cave?” Nal asked.

“They did not have what it took to survive, otherwise they would have done so, I am sure. A king’s power is a thing of awe, there are many who covet it, and far, far less who can obtain it,” Bestla said.

“And as long as there is a king, the men don’t fight each other or attack the strongholds,” Nal said.

“Any man who attacks a stronghold will find themselves the enemy of all men,” Bestla said, “A woman will never come to harm on Jotunheim, my dear.”

“Never? That’s a very confident statement to make,” Nal said.

“And yet I know that it is true,” Bestla said, “Do not forget, my child, a Jotun man is what his mother chooses to make him, and Jotun women are not fools.”

****

Daianya had entered some kind of meditative state coaxed by the sound of brainless entertainment when Anima suddenly made a sound of happiness which shook her back to reality.

“Did you do it?” she asked Anima’s beaming face.

“Touch the top stone in mother’s pendant,” Anima said, gesturing to Dainya’s neck.

Anima had insisted that she wear it with her armour, apparently the rubies set into the circle were necessary.

Daianya touched the stone and her armour disappeared, leaving her in her underwear.

“Great,” she said dryly.

“Put on a dress, then when you summon it back the dress should go to a seidr fold and your armour should be on, and if you touch the top stone again then your dress will come back,” Anima said in a breathless rush. “I can’t believe I did it! I mean, all the calculations were correct but still, this is amazing! This is incredible!”

Daianya pulled on a dress and turned to face Anima. “Now what?” she said.

“Touch the lower right stone,” Anima said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The lower right stone summoned her swords.

Now the lower left,” Anima said.

That one summoned her entire armour and her swords, plus smoothed down her hair beneath her helmet.

“Now, if you touch the top stone, everything will disappear into a seidr fold, but if you touch it again it will appear beside you,” Anima said.

Daianya touched the stone twice, and her armour appeared exactly where Anima said it would.

“I thought about putting it on your armour rack but then I thought ‘what if you are travelling and you want your armour with you, but not _on_ you, so I made it appear by your side instead,” Anima said happily. “And the preservation spell in the seidr fold means that it will always be summoned in the condition the spell was first cast in, so if it gets completely wrecked of damaged you won’t have to take it to a weapon smith, you can just send it away and summon it back,” Anima said.

Daianya practiced with the stones a few times and grinned, “This is exactly what I wanted, Anima, thank you,” she said. 

“Just don’t lose your pendant,” Anima said, “otherwise I will have to cast it from new with another set of stones.”

“If someone got a hold of the pendant could they summon my armour?” Daianya asked.

Anima grinned even more widely, “Nope, only you, Nal and I can summon your armour, everyone else gets crocodiles.”

“Crocodiles?!”

“I chose them because the likelihood that someone who tries to summon your armour is prepared for crocodiles is extremely low,” Anima said.

“Well I certainly wasn’t expecting you to say it,” Daianya said.

“See? They’re perfect.”


	43. Hidden Deals and Secret Betrayals

**Nine years until the Convergence**

Malekith stepped off the ramp of the spaceship and looked around him at the industrial bustle of Nidavellir. Everywhere he looked he saw the Dwarves working, moving metal, hammering hot iron, making blunt instruments and fine mechanisms with an equal amount of care and attention.

Nidavellir was a strange place. The original realm was in fact a typical round-shaped world, slightly further out than the ring most people now identified as the home of the Dwarves. According to the Dwarves themselves everyone now lived on the Great Ring where they worked and crafted their wares at every conceivable hour.

Personally Malekith doubted it. While it was possible that the ‘old’ realm had truly been stripped of all its metals and minerals in order to build the Great Ring, thus making it unliveable for a large population, personal experience told him that there were always stubborn hold-outs to any major changes, and Eitri didn’t seem the type to take Malekith’s solution, which had been to kill them all for disobeying their king.

There was a Dwarf waiting to greet him in the landing bay; she looked fairly young, although her hands were already rough and her clothes covered in ash and soot.

Algrim stayed at his shoulder as he took a few steps towards her. She gave him a deep bow and spoke, “King Eitri has sent me to greet you, as he is in the middle of a delicate working and cannot set it aside until it reaches a stable stage,” she said.

Malekith fought to keep the annoyance from his face. He was certain that, had it been King Bor on the platform, Eitri would have abandoned the work and started again later.

But hasty temper had backfired on him once; he wasn’t about to let it get the better of him again.

“Of course King Eitri must finish his work,” he said, “The work of the Dwarves is renowned for its quality, and you can hardly achieve that if you have to keep stopping and starting.”

She looked pleased at his understanding – like the fool she was – and led him and his men to a waiting room away from the noise and dust of the forge. The lights within had been dimmed to spare their eyes and food and drink had been laid out for them to refresh themselves while they waited.

“King Eitri will be here as soon as he can, in the meantime he bids you welcome and to please make yourselves comfortable,” the Dwarf said.

Malekith gave her a nod; he could be polite but he could not manage a smile.

Once alone, Algrim turned to him and said in Elvish, “He insults you.”

“All the nine realms insult us,” Malekith said, “because we lost the most in the war and they think that means they do not have to respect us. But I will take the disrespect for the weapons these Dwarves will make for us. Once Asgard is gone they will see their new place is beneath us, where they belong.”

“It is too bright in here,” one of his men muttered.

Malekith agreed, even dimmed the light was painful to his eyes, but there was no point in complaining to those who did not truly care for their comfort.

“You will endure,” he said.

They waited over half an hour, enough time for Malekith to grow snappish and annoyed. At one point he wanted to leave, and it was Algrim who reminded him why he should stay.

“We need those weapons, my King,” he said, “Without them we cannot hope to overrun Asgard.”

Finally, after long enough for Malekith to privately add Nidavellir to his list of realms to destroy after Asgard had fallen, King Eitri appeared.

He still had the ash and soot from his latest work on his clothes, and his brow was covered in sweat. Accompanying him was his brother, Brokkr, who looked equally dishevelled. 

“King Malekith, I bid you welcome to my realm. I apologise for leaving you to wait, a month of work hinged on finishing my task without pause, but that is completed now. What brings you to my realm?” Eitri asked.

“I come to commission some weapons and armour,” Malekith said, “My army has grown vast and I require more than my realm can produce.”

Eitri nodded, “Brokkr here is the head of the weaponsmiths, I’m sure he would be happy to go over your requirements,” he said.

“I need energy weapons and armour for a hundred-thousand elves,” Malekith said.

There was a pause of general surprise and disbelief.

“That is a high number,” Brokkr said at last, “Asgard’s army is a quarter of that size.”

Malekith forced a smile onto his face that looked more like a grimace, “So I hear,” he said, “But perhaps they are content with the warriors they have. I require more, and they need to be well equipped.”

“Well, we can produce close to three thousand a week of elven armour if you want to give us an example to work from,” Brokkr said, “We’ve got plenty of elven black in stock at the moment.”

“Where did you get elven black?” Malekith asked before he could stop himself. Beside him he felt Algrim shift slightly, reminding him to keep a calm head.

“All armour left behind after a battle that is not collected within three months falls under scavenger rights,” Brokkr said.

“We didn’t have the men to collect our dead,” Malekith said slowly, “And you propose to sell it back to us?”

“We do not rob the dead,” Eitri said, cutting off whatever his brother’s reply was going to be, “But we buy what is brought to us by others, and a large amount of broken armour made of elven black was brought here in the last few years, we still see shipments occasionally and we pay for them as we do all our raw materials.”

Malekith clenched his teeth and forced himself to remain calm. 

“I understand,” he said, as in his head Nidavellir burned, “Although you may keep your elven black. The war taught me that our existing armour is not sufficient to withstand the type of weapons we may encounter. I wish to commission new armour for my soldiers made of Jotunheim steel.”

Had he not been watching Eitri’s face very closely, he would have missed the miniscule moment of hesitation that occurred before he said, “Jotunheim steel is certainly very strong, strong enough to stand up to the weapons of Asgard even, but also very costly.”

“I have a shipload of precious gems and fine metals that I can leave as a deposit,” Malekith said, “More will be provided at each delivery.”

Brokkr looked interested, but Eitri looked hesitant, and Eitri was ultimately the one who would make the deal… or refuse it.

“Is Svartalfheim facing any powerful threats?” he asked carefully.

“All realms have threats to face,” Malekith said.

“All realms may call upon Asgard if they require defending,” Eitri said, still in the same careful tone.

“Asgard is a threat,” muttered Brokkr, surprising Malekith.

“What do you mean?” he asked, intrigued.

“Hela killed our brother in the middle of a feast,” Brokkr said.

“Our brother spoke foolishly and dishonoured a daughter of Odin,” Eitri said.

The two of them glared at one another, much to Malekith’s delight.

“Well I can promise you that no harm will come to any Dwarf who might set foot on Svartalfheim,” he said, drawing their attention back to him, “And having such a power imbalance in the nine realms cannot truly be for the benefit of all.”

Brokkr gave him a grin but if anything Eitri looked even less sure than he had before.

“I will consider your commission,” he said, “and I will send you the price of our labour and the cost of the steel.”

“Thank you,” Malekith said, finally able to find a more natural smile. “Please accept the cargo on the ship as a part payment.”

Eitri didn’t acknowledge the offer, he just rose and took a deep breath, “I will send you details shortly,” he said, “Please stay as long as you like; if you would like a tour of our workshops then one will be arranged for you.”

“Thank you,” Malekith said, also rising.

The two kings bowed in mutual politeness and uneasiness before Eitri left them alone.

“So we will have our armour,” Algrim said, “and our weapons.”

“So it appears,” Malekith said turning to his men, “Unload the cargo, then we can go.”

****

Brokkr followed Eitri back to his workshop with a look of glee on his face. “Did you hear him?” he asked, “the Dark Elves will be going to war with Asgard.”

“I heard him,” Eitri said, “and I came to the same conclusion. There are no threats so large that he needs Jotunheim steel armour for a hundred thousand men.”

“Except for Asgard, he’s going to wipe them out,” Brokkr said, sounding ecstatic.

“If that is the case then we cannot take the commission,” Eitri said, stopping Brokkr in his tracks.

“What?!”

“Asgard protects us from more threats than they cause,” Eitri said, “I want Hela dead, and I want King Bor gone and replaced with Odin, who at least seems like a sensible man, but I do not want Asgard destroyed.”

“It’ll happen one day anyway,” Brokkr said darkly, “when Ragnarok comes.”

“Ragnarok is a prophesy and _if_ it happens then it will be by the will of Yggdrasil,” Eitri said, “It is not our place to force it.”

“So you will not make their weapons?” Brokkr exclaimed, “They are unloading the first part of the payment right now!”

“I will return it to them,” Eitri said, “with a gift of elven black as recompense for their troubles.”

“First you back out of the gauntlet deal and now you back out with the deal with the elves,” Brokkr said, “Asgard is the reason out brother is dead, and still you bow to them! You are afraid, brother, you are afraid of them and you let them rule you.”

Eitri turned on his heel, forcing Brokkr to stumble to a halt. “I do not fear Asgard, brother, but I fear its absence in the galaxy. _Asgard_ is the only reason we have not been overrun by Titans, by Kronans, by Kree, I want Hela dead more than you could ever believe but Asgard must remain standing for the security of us all.”

Brokkr looked away from his brother’s gaze and huffed in frustration. Eitri’s expression softened and he reached out to rest his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know you are frustrated,” he said, “I swear, brother, I swear we will have our revenge. I have been working on something – a device of great power – which will punish Hela in ways that will make her wish she was dead.”

Brokkr immediately looked interested, “Brother, you didn’t say a word,” he said.

“I wanted to be sure it would work, today I am,” Eitri said.

“What will it do?” Brokkr asked.

“It will hold her body in a state of endless immobility while her mind remains free,” Eitri said, “She will be unable to kill, maim, summon weapons, or use her power. She will not speak, or feel, or be able to see or hear. All she will have is her thoughts forever and ever,” Eitri said.

Brokkr let out a slow breath. “I would prefer some pain for her, brother.”

“Trust me, Brokkr, when I say there is nothing so painful as being trapped with only your thoughts,” Eitri said, “I am tortured every night with my thoughts of Sindri and my grief, I promise you physical pain is nothing compared to that.”

Brokkr did not look convinced but he bowed his head anyway, “I bow to your decision, brother,” he said, “I will await the completion of your weapon with anticipation.”

Eitri smiled sadly, “Thank you,” he said, “I know you have been frustrated by my reluctance but I swear to you that I will take revenge, just on the right people and without causing long-term harm to our own. These are the kinds of things you have to balance when you are a king, and something I need you to understand as my heir.”

Brokkr nodded, “I do see what you mean, brother, I just miss him so much and my temper rises whenever I think of what happened.”

Eitri pulled him into a hug, “We must stand together,” he said, “I know it hurts, but if we stand together then we will have our revenge, I swear to you.”

“I understand,” Brokkr said, “And I will stand by you all the way.”

“Good, because now I have to write to King Bor and warn him of Malekith’s ambitions,” Eitri said.

Brokkr’s face remained deliberately calm. “You must do what is best,” he said. 

**** 

Brokkr waited while Eitri drafted the letter containing the details of his meeting with Malekith and Eitri suspicions regarding the Dark Elf King’s intended target. Beyond Eitri’s paperwork bench was the entrance to his personal vault, where he placed all of his in-progress workings and other precious creations. Brokkr looked it over with interest. It was considered extremely rude to try and open another Dwarf’s vault, mostly because in a realm of craftsmen it was so easy for them to do so.

Eitri, no doubt, had more than a few spells of protection and defence on his vault, but Brokkr had spent a thousand years working alongside his brother and he knew what Eitri favoured in a protection spell.

“Where is the weapon you are making for Hela?” he asked, looking away from the vault entrance.

“In there,” Eitri confirmed, “It’s still in the piece-mould stage, but I am hoping to make a mould from it as soon as I purchase the last of the spells I need.”

Eitri finished the letter and rang for one of his workers.

“Take this to the Bifrost site and send it to King Bor,” he said, handing it to him.

Brokkr gave his brother a nod and slipped away as the worker bowed and took the letter. He made his way quickly through the halls and past the workshops of the other Dwarves and to the rear of the Bifrost site, arriving a few seconds before the worker.

A few seconds was not much, but it was enough to be in the right place among the mechanisms when the worker arrived and got the attention of the Bifrost operator.

Brokkr slipped his hand along the controls and carefully turned an important dial a few degrees off centre.

The Bifrost operator placed the letter on a stand and powered up his station. He entered in the co-ordinates for Asgard and hit the activation button. The stand and letter disappeared in a flash of light.

Brokkr carefully turned the dial back again before slipping away unseen. The letter would never arrive. It would instead appear several miles off course in the middle of deep space. And Eitri wouldn’t suspect anything had happened because Bor frequently didn’t answer letters unless he had a question for the sender.

Maybe the elves couldn’t have the armour they desired, but Brokkr would be dammed if he allowed Asgard to have warning of what was to come. Let them find out on their own.


	44. Goodbye Old Man, and Be At Peace

Anima was sitting at her desk, carefully drafting her latest research out onto a scroll. She had figured out a way to cast a highly sophisticated organ restoration spell using only half the regular amount of power with only a fraction of an increase to the casting time, and she wanted to submit it to the hospital’s development department for review. She had just reached the transcribing of the spell itself when Senan’s voice came through her pendant.

**_“Anima?”_ **

She laid her pen down and straightened up. “Yes Senan? Is there something wrong?” she asked.

She and Senan usually spoke twice a week; his call was a day early, and Anima had a feeling she knew why.

 ** _“I just wanted to let you know that Niler has died, gone in his sleep while I watched over him,”_** Senan said.

Anima closed her eyes and bowed her head, “I knew it was coming,” she said, “You warned me two weeks ago that he was slipping away. I really wanted to see him one last time, I swear I did, but my Father won’t let me have the tesseract, and I don’t have the power to borrow it, not form the weapons vault. Was it peaceful?”

 _ **“Very, in the end; his breath grew laboured for a bit but he didn’t stir or wake up. I think he was past noticin’ by then,”**_ Senan said.

Anima nodded, although he couldn’t see her. “I hope his soul’s gone to see his family,” she said, “I hope they’re all together and happy.”

 _ **“I’m sure he has, he was a bit odd, but he never troubled the gods, they have no reason to hold him back from Tír na nÓg,”**_ Senan said, naming the afterlife he and Niler believed in. Anima knew for a fact that mortals _did_ have a spiritual world on the branches of Yggdrasil that mimicked Midgard, the same as Valhalla mimicked Asgard, and Fólkvangr mimicked Vanaheim. Every one of the nine realms had a spiritual counterpart, but the Asgardian scholars merely called the Midgardian one the ‘Otherworld’. Anima much preferred Senan’s version. 

“Are you alright?” Anima asked him, “You’re all alone in that hut now.”

 ** _“I’d be happier for a warm partner beside me, it’s true,”_** Senan said, **_“But none of the village girls’ll have me and my Fairy Princess is far far away and cannot reach me.”_**

Anima reached up to her eyes and wiped away the tears that had begun to form. “Maybe I can find a way,” she said, “I’m trying, Senan, I really am, but my father won’t be convinced.”

 _ **“You can only do what you can, Ani,”**_ Senan said, _**“I’ll be buryin’ Niler tomorrow in that little tucked away part of the clearin’, if you can make it I’d appreciate the company, but if not then perhaps you can just talk to me durin’ so that I don’t feel so alone.”**_

“I can do that,” Anima said, struggling not to cry, “I’ll talk to you for as long as you need.”

****

Hela was bored. She frequently was, when not immediately killing someone, and right now death was the last thing anyone else was thinking about.

“The yield is expected to be higher than normal for the grain,” the man was saying – some farmer or something, Hela hadn’t been paying attention – “but the same rains that benefit the grain is going to cause a problem with the apples if we can’t put some extra drainage in.” 

Hela had never wanted to kill someone so badly in all her life. He was so boooooring; so he needed to do something, just do it then and stop complaining!

“How long will it take for you to dig out the necessary drainage?” Odin asked.

Oh yes, the reason she was here: realm management. Really, Hela had thought that Odin had forgotten all about trying to make her learn how to be a _governing_ ruler instead of an absolute one. Hadn’t she done a good enough job as executioner? Why was he trying so hard to make her hate Asgard and everyone in it?

What did a ruler need to know about plants anyway? And why, once she was queen, couldn’t she make Nal do it? Nal _liked_ plants, she’d probably enjoy talking to the farm-crop-growing person, whatever he was.

“A dozen men working every day would have them dug before the next hard rains hit,” the man said.

Odin was nodding, “Hela? What do you suggest?” he asked her.

Hela tried her best to smile in a pleasing manner; judging by the look on the man’s face she had not been successful.

“Hire some men for him and make them dig his drains?” she said.

Odin, thankfully, nodded at her answer, “The palace can engage some men to dig for you. We will send them over within the week.”

The man smiled and bowed deeply, “Thank you, your Grace Odin, your Grace Hela,” he said.

Hela perked up slightly; she didn’t usually get thanked for doing anything. 

“I’m proud of you, Hela,” Odin said as they walked away, “That was a good answer.”

“I just thought of whatever I thought you would do,” Hela said, “I wanted to kill him, he droned on so much.”

Odin stifled a sigh and gave her a slightly pained smile, “Still, you did well,” he said encouragingly.

Hela nodded curtly, “Does anyone else want our help?” she asked.

“Not today,” Odin said.

“Thank Yggdrasil,” Hel said, “I don’t think I could get through another one.”

“There are a lot of tedious things to deal with when you are a ruler,” Odin said, “Often many in a day.”

“Well Nal likes plants, so she should learn how to deal with farmers and things, and Daianya can go to Vanaheim and have red-headed children, and Anima can just die whenever she’s ready,” Hela said.

Odin winced at her words, “You sisters will, no doubt, do their duty as you are learning yours,” he said diplomatically.

“I wish King Bor would just send Daianya away already,” Hela said, “She’s still aging at a mortal rate, how do we know she won’t just die of old age when Anima does?”

“The scholars are certain that her natural lifespan will reassert itself once it is… detached, from Anima’s,” Odin said.

“So she’ll just age backwards again until, what, she becomes an infant?” Hela said, looking disgusted.

“A young adult,” Odin corrected, “Daianya and Nal’s frames won’t shrink, that would be a type of devolution that would require magic, not biology, to enforce.”

“I bet I know why King Bor hasn’t sent her yet then,” Hela said, sounding pleased with her theory, “If he sends her now she’ just going to get all old and wrinkled really fast, if he waits until Anima dies then she’ll be young and – ugh – fertile and there won’t be any problems with marrying her off to Prince Norbleen.”

She looked at him with a smile, pleased to have figured out King Bor’s plans.

Odin tilted his head in acknowledgement, “He hasn’t said that exactly but it makes a lot of sense,” he said.

Hela grinned, “When I’m queen I will have to make alliances for people,” she said, “I would wait until Anima is dead too.”

Odin winced at the casual way she spoke of her sister’s death, “I’d rather not think about it,” he said, “It’s still a long way off.”

“Only a hundred years,” Hela said, “Maybe even less; has anyone asked her how much life-force she actually has?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Odin said, his voice growing stern.

Hela sighed loudly. Odin hated talking about death; he avoided it at every opportunity. But death was the only thing Hela really cared about. Sometimes she was amazed that he was the God of War.

****

Nal stood with her eyes on her opponent’s chest, watching carefully for signs of movement which would give away his plans.

He shifted slightly, indicating that he would go left. She brought her knife up to catch his attack and twisted, deflecting it down and to the side. 

Master Evanen spun easily and straightened with a smile.

“Good,” he said, “Most people are not trained fighters, and they will give away their movements the same way I just did. The tensing of the chest muscles just before the strike is very hard to hide, so it is a good way to anticipate when you need to be ready.”

Nal nodded, already preparing for another strike.

She had been training once a week for almost a year and she thought things were going fairly well. Master Evanen had focussed entirely on defensive actions, blocking, diverting, deflecting, etc. and she felt reasonably confident that she could hold off an attack from a regular person for at least a little while.

He had refused to teach her any attack movements, but that was because King Bor still hadn’t given his permission. Nal knew it was more that he only did the absolutely urgent tasks every day, and so her request to be allowed to train would have been shoved far to the bottom of an ever-growing pile of non-urgent papers.

Eventually, Odin would get through them all and stumble across it, and probably wonder what it was doing there and how long ago it had been written. To the best of her knowledge, Nal didn’t think anyone knew she had taken up defence lessons other than her sisters, Bestla, and Loki. 

Bestla had expressed concern that she wouldn’t be trying to develop her Jotnir fighting skills, but had conceded that the fear they would cause may not be worth the strength they would add. She did try to encourage Nal to at least learn to throw up an ice shield from the ground in front of her as a fast way to block ranged attacks.

“They work really well on energy weapons, dear,” she said, demonstrating one with a wave of her hand, “Usually that is, mine are very weak, as we discussed.”

Being nine foot tall and having a heavy gait to match meant that Bestla had always given the impression of being quite strong, and perhaps to a mortal like Anima or a child like Brunnhilde she was, but it was becoming increasingly clear to Nal that her grandmother was in fact quite frail for a Jotun. She saw the healers every month or so for various pains and aches in her body, she rested for more than nine hours a night, which, given Nal still only needed about four hours to feel fully refreshed and Loki bounced through life like he’d eaten psychedelic flowers every day, was clearly not normal even for a Jotun of Bestla’s age. 

Nal had practiced throwing up walls of ice for Bestla’s sake, but she never intended to use them other than to make her grandmother happy. Ice shaping was feared by the bulk of the Asgardian population _especially_ ice that was summoned from a seemingly ice-free ground. They always seemed to think sharp spikes would be following.

Instead of doing things that would only make her stand out more, Nal practiced her defensive moves in her room, and trained in the garden with her teacher. She carried a dagger on her belt when she went out, which wasn’t unusual in the city of Asgard, and she made sure the blade was fairly small so as not to be intimidating.

Ten minutes later Master Evanen called an end to the day and Nal paid him his gold. She felt good. Daianya had always said a good training session made her feel energised and Nal could finally understand what she meant.

“Training going well?” asked a familiar voice.

“Very,” Nal said, turning to face Loki, who was halfway up a tree, “Been watching long?”

“The whole time, although I didn’t actually climb the tree to watch you, I was hiding from Hela. I think she’s trying to get me with a bear trap and I need to see where she plans to put it down,” Loki said.

Nal folded her arms, “You encourage her too much,” she said.

“Nonsense, I encourage her just enough,” Loki said, “Don’t worry, the bear trap is one of those fancy ones that are invisible and only get set off when the specific target step into it. I know, I examined it last night in her office while she was upstairs asleep.”

“Aren’t you the slightest bit worried that she’s going to get you one day?” Nal asked.

“No,” Loki said, climbing down, “she may get me, but I’m not worried about it, if she succeeds then it’ll be my own damn fault. Besides, I heard a rumour that if you die you can go and possess someone else, I’d quite like to see if that’s true. Do you think King Bor would mind if I popped into his body and made a few proclamations?”

“I think he’d find a way to kill you twice,” Nal said, making Loki laugh.

“Maybe, maybe, probably, let be honest, but it’d be fun while it lasted,” he said, grinning.

“Is everything you ever do for fun?” Nal asked him.

“Almost everything, yeah,” Loki said, “I’m mostly just here to have a good time, if I’m honest.”

Nal rolled her eyes, “Well I’m glad that’s working out for you,” she said, walking away from him.

“Have you practiced summoning an ice-knife yet?” Loki asked her, jogging to catch up.

“No, I told you why,” Nal said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“I know, and I respectfully disagree with your reasoning,” Loki said, “Besides, in a defensive situation wouldn’t you want every advantage at your disposal? If someone takes your knife wouldn’t it be better to know how to summon a new one?”

Nal stopped walking and turned to face him, “Alright,” she said, “Show me.”

Loki held out his hand and a blade of ice formed upon it. In a few seconds he had something as long as her knife, although far more jagged and thick.

Nal looked at it doubtfully, “That doesn’t look particularly sharp,” she said, “It’s more of a blunt instrument.”

Loki grinned and threw it as hard as he could at a nearby fencing rail. It hit the rail and jammed in as far as an axe blade.

“Jotun-shaped ice is stronger than regular ice,” he said. 

“I know, Grandmother showed me,” Nal said, “But it’s still so thick and rough, I can’t catch an incoming blade on that thing and let it slide off to the side, it’ll get caught.”

“I know,” Loki said, “When Jotnir fight they summon knives as needed and drop them whenever they get caught or stuck and summon another one. The skill you need to practice is your speed at summoning; even experts like me take a few seconds, but if you can summon them quickly enough you will never truly be weaponless.”

Nal looked down at her hand and concentrated. A lump of ice began to form in her palm. She focussed hard and made a slight grunt of effort, and the lump grew into the rough shape of a blade.

“Good!” Loki said, “Just practice a few times every day until it comes quickly and naturally.”

Nal shook her head and dropped the blade, which landed on the ground with a thud, “I don’t want to be a Jotun warrior,” she said, “I _want_ to learn enough to keep myself out of danger without making everyone in this damn realm hate me for not being like them!”

Loki went to chase after her but she went through one of the doors of the palace and slammed it behind her. He ran forwards to open it and there was a horrible snap.

Loki looked down at the bear trap biting deeply into his leg as his blood began to spill out around the teeth.

“Ah fuck,” he muttered.

****

One month after arriving home from Nidavellir, Malekith received a shipment from Eitri containing his original payment of gems and precious metals, as well as a large amount of ingots of elven black, all perfectly smelted, purified and ready for use. He also received a letter from the Dwarven king explaining that they were unable to take the commission at this point in time, but were open to future commissions of other, less militant, work.

Malekith let out a scream of frustration and fury. The damn Dwarves _dared_ , they _dared_ to decide for him how he could arm his people? What right had they? What _right_?

“After Asgard falls we will kill every last Dwarf on Nidavellir,” he yelled, throwing the letter to the ground. “We will storm through the skies and tear the nine realms apart! We will bring down darkness, and death, and destruction upon them all!”

Algrim just nodded; the will of his king was paramount.

“We will need another way to arm our troops,” he said.

“Use the elven black,” Malekith said, “And send some traders to see if we can offload this shiny rubbish in exchange for something useful. Maybe there’s another type of weapon out there we can purchase, something the nine realms have never seen before.”

“I will send out scouts as well, to seek information on anything that might aid us in our attack,” he said.

Malekith nodded, still trying to calm himself down.

“If I had the means I would reduce the whole nine realms to dust and darkness,” he said, “I swear they will suffer for this, they will all suffer.”


	45. A Call for Help

**Eight years until the Convergence**

_**“Anima!”** _

Anima’s eyes snapped open. Senan’s voice was ringing out in alarm.

_**“Anima!”**_

“Senan, I’m here,” she said, sitting up, heart pounding, “What’s wrong!”

_**“They’re attacking the village! They’re killing people, Ani help! Please help!”** _

She jumped out of bed in a panic.

“Hold on! I’m coming!” she said, although even as she said that she had no idea how.

The sound of fighting and screams of wounded echoed through her pendant, making it hard to think.

Anima shut her eyes tightly and concentrated.

She appeared in Loki’s room a bright flash of blue, power leaking away in every direction.

“Uncle Loki!” she shrieked.

His head popped up in an instant, “Puppy! What’s wrong?!” he said.

“I need the tesseract! I need it _now_!” she screamed.

He leapt out of bed and made a movement with his hands. In the flash of blue light he vanished, leaving her alone in his room.

 _ **“Ani! Are you coming? Where are you?!”**_ Senan pleaded.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Hold on!” Anima babbled, shaking in panic.

She was terrified that Senan would be hurt. He sounded like he was right in the middle of the fighting, but why? He lived in the forest! His village didn’t even like him!

Loki reappeared holding the tesseract. “Let’s go,” he said.

Anima touched the tesseract and they vanished in a flash of light.

****

They reappeared in the middle of the village, most of which was on fire. Smoke and screams intermingled as Anima looked around desperately trying to find Senan in the chaos.

“I’m in the village,” she said, “Where are you?”

 _ **“I’m by the big hall! They’re trying to force us inside and they’re going to burn us!”**_ Senan screamed. _**“I’m by the big hall! They’re trying to force us inside and they’re going to burn us!”**_ he screamed.

Anima took off running towards the biggest building in town, Loki ran after her, summoning magic as he did so.

Anima reached the square in the centre of town and saw a group of men in leather armour waving bronze swords and spears as they stabbed and slashed at the people backing away against the door.

Loki jumped up behind them and threw two fireballs, blasting the group of attackers in the back.

They screamed and broke away as their hair caught fire. Loki grinned and threw another spell, this time when his magic hit the men their arms turned into wings.

Anima could see Senan through the crowd. He looked older now, and his bread had finally grown in. His face was hard, he had a sword in his hand and he was focussed on keeping his sister, and a small child, behind him and with the crowd. Then an attacker lunged forwards and Senan cried out in pain.

Anima let out a cry of fear and anger and slammed her hand upward into the sky. There was a flash of blue and every attacker she could see went flying into the air. They stopped and hung there, helplessly dangling at a height of about fifteen feet.

Loki glanced across and Anima with a raised eyebrow and anticipation on his face, almost like he wanted to urge her onwards, to do more, to go further, to let go.

She didn’t, and instead spent ten seconds locking the spell into position so that they couldn’t fall down.

“Ani!” Senan exclaimed, hobbling painfully over the square to reach her, his leg had been cut into deeply and blood was spreading out over his leg.

“Senan, you’re hurt, I’m sorry! I got here as soon as could,” Anima said, tears in her eyes.

“You saved us,” Senan said, “And you brought a naked man to help?”

“I was sleeping,” Loki said, “and they’re not all gone yet.”

Anima knelt in front of Senan and tried to concentrate on his wound. “It’s a deep cut,” she said, “You’re bleeding badly, if you don’t let me fix it you’ll be badly weakened, you may even die.”

He wasn’t the only one, once she started the spell to detect the extent of his wound, she began picking up injured people everywhere, some of whom were dying of their wounds.

“There’s so many,” she said to Loki, “I can’t save them all.”

“Then save who you can, no one’s perfect,” Loki said, throwing a spell at an attacker who’d come into the square to find out what was happening to his cronies.

Anima shook her head. There were so few mortals left on Midgard, she couldn’t let these ones die. She grabbed the tesseract and concentrated on finding as many injured people as possible.

“Ani? Are you plannin’ some magic? Because I’m startin’ to feel all kinds of woozy m’love,” Senan said.

Anima made a gesture with her other hand and every wounded mortal in the village disappeared in a flash of blue smoke.

Loki looked around himself and sighed.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, “I’ll just tidy up, shall I?”

****

They reappeared in the healing rooms of the palace of Asgard. The healers on duty let out a yelp of surprise.

“Help them,” Anima said, “Wake the others and help them!”

They hesitated, looking around at all the mortals groaning in pain.

 _“HELP THEM!”_ Anima yelled; her eyes flashed a bright white light for a split second and the healers ran to obey.

They grabbed healing stones and crystal and set to work stabilising everyone as fast as they could. Senan found himself pulled onto a bed and his leg rapidly strapped. Other healers came running in, hastily pulling aprons over their nightdresses.

The place turned into a triage of blood, instructions and magic. Anima stepped backwards against the wall by Senan’s bed and watched as the healers worked. She could see the spells activate one after the other, regeneration was the main spell, multiplying the cells around the wounds to knit them rapidly closed. 

Then one healer went over to a baby crying in its mother’s arm and examined it, “This one has an organ failure,” she said, “Not from the battle, it’s sick and dying.”

The mother whimpered and held the child closer, tears started to build in her eyes, “She’s been getting weaker for weeks now,” she said, starting to sob.

“I can fix it,” the healer said, “Don’t worry, your baby will be fine.”

She pulled a type of crystal from her bag which Anima had never seen before, and held it over the child.

The spell was one of rejuvenation, instead of promoting rapid cell multiplication it instead acted on the existing cells to renew themselves.

Anima stared, intrigued, as she watched the flow of magic act on the child. She was so engrossed that she completely missed the door opening and King Bor striding into the room.

“What by Sutur’s roasty backside is going on here?!” he bellowed.

Anima’s head snapped around and she winced in anticipation of getting in trouble.

“Is that your King?” Senan asked, weakly.

“Yes it is,” Anima said, “That is Bor, King of Asgard, God of – ”

“Anima!” Bor bellowed, spotting her against the wall, “What are all these mortals doing here? How did you bring them here? _How do you even know them?!_ ”

Anima glanced at Senan briefly before making her way through the crowd until she stood in front of her grandfather.

“I used the tesseract to go to Midgard. I stopped when we found out what it really was, but they called on me for help so I did. They were wounded so I brought them here. There are so few mortals left, your Majesty, I couldn’t let them die. Midgard is still of the nine realms, we have a duty – ”

“Our duty is to stop others from wiping them out, beyond that we owe them nothing!” Bor snapped, “I want them gone! I want them sent back right now!”

“NO!” Anima shouted, “They’re _my_ people, and I chose to protect them!”

“You are a Princess of Asgard!” Bor bellowed.

“I. Am. Mortal!” Anima screamed, “And one of our defining traits is our complete and utter inability to follow rules We. Don’t. Like!”

Bor roared a wordless sound, loud enough to make the windows rattle, but Anima, with tears in her eyes and whole body trembling, did not back down.

He glared at her, but then took in the room of injured and frightened people around him with a hard and fast glance.

“Asleep!” he snapped, “Put them all to sleep! I don’t want any of them waking up until they are healed and ready to go back!”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. Anima sagged into a heap and wiped the tears from her cheeks with a rough hand.

She made her way back to Senan as the healers began to obey Bor’s order, moving among the mortals and running a sleeping stone over their heads, making them instantly drift into a dreamless sleep.

Senan gave her a worried smile as she reached him, “Thank you, Ani, for helpin’ my people.”

“I wish I could show you Asgard,” Anima said sadly as the healer approached.

“Even this room is grander than anything I’ve ever seen before,” he said, “My little hut doesn’t really compare, does it?”

Anima took his hand and held it as the healer passed the stone over his head and his head sank back onto the pillow.

“Depends on who’s in it,” she said softly to his sleeping face.

**** 

Loki finished dragging his stick through the blood-spattered dirt and straightened up.

“Well,” he said to his horrified audience, “I don’t know about you but I had a lovely time. Killed some attackers, captured some others, rescued a fair few maidens from burning huts, and now I’d quite like to get going. I was pulled out of bed for this, you know.”

“Where are our people?” A man asked, “Where did you take them?”

Loki shrugged, “Fairy realm?” he suggested and pressed his hand to the pattern-filled circle he’d carved into the dirt. The lines within glowed and the light from the Bifrost poured down around him. A second later it was gone, and Loki with it.

He arrived at the Bifrost mechanism site and gave the gatekeeper a jaunty wave and he began the long stroll back to the palace.

“Why’re you naked?” the guard asked.

“More fun that way,” Loki said without breaking stride.

The sun was rising as he reached the palace gates and sauntered through them. Odin and Hela were both awake and saddling horses, clearly intending to go out on another one of Odin’s lessons in responsibility. Loki gave them a broad grin and a cheery wave.

Odin just sighed heavily and turned back to Sleipnir at the sight of him. Hela’s eyes lit up for a moment and her hand twitched as though to create a knife, but then her eyes slid over to Odin by her side and she clenched his hand into a fist instead as Loki strolled on by, naked as the day he was born and utterly vulnerable and exposed.

She watched him with narrowed eyes until he disappeared inside of the palace and out of killing range. 

Loki made his way to his bedroom first. Strolling through the palace naked was all kinds of fun but there was a limit to its shock value, and he had plans for the new year celebration that would be far less effective if he wasted all of it now.

He pulled on some clothes and headed straight back out again, this time towards the healer’s wing. Odin leaving on a journey meant that he hadn’t yet discovered Anima’s adventure in the night, and Loki wanted a prime seat to watch the show.

He reached the healers rooms and sighed in disappointment. The mortals were all sleeping peacefully, the healers moved among them sedately, checking on their vital signs and renewing the sleeping spells that kept them unconscious.

Anima was curled up in a chair next to where her ‘friend’ was lying. She was fast asleep, and looked younger than her 27 years.

Loki looked down at her fondly. She had so much potential, and it pained him to see her hold back again and again. He cursed her teachers who put that kind of fear into her head – in one case, literally – and every chance he got he encouraged her to cut loose and push her limits.

As if a part of her sensed him watching, she stirred and opened her eyes. She looked up and saw him standing there.

“My neck hurts,” she said sleepily.

“You left me on Midgard,” Loki said with a smile.

“The fact that you are here indicates that the decision was appropriate,” Anima said, “Although I’m glad to see you acquired pants.”

“Well, Midgard was nippy,” Loki said, “Are they going to be alright?”

Anima nodded, “King Bor ordered them to be put to sleep until they are ready to return,” she said.

“Bor was here? He already found out you brought them?”

“One of the junior healers ran and told him in the night,” Anima said, “He was furious.”

“I’m sorry I missed the show,” Loki said, “Come and have breakfast with me and you can tell me all about it.”

“I yelled at him,” Anima said, rising from the chair and glancing down at Senan, “But I had to, they’re important, and no one else is going to fight for them.”

“Anima, Goddess of Midgard,” Loki said, offering her his arm.

“Tired Mortal at the end of her tether is more accurate,” Anima said, “I don’t know what came over me, he ordered them returned at once and I just got so _angry_. Why should they be denied the spells of the healers? Why should they be left to bleed and get sick when we have the power to help them? Midgard is one of the nine realms, the scholars always say we are connected through Yggdrasil, why do we turn away from one another so often?”

“Yggdrasil is exactly as complex as all of us combined,” Loki said, “Clearly the diversity is necessary for its continued existence, but I’ll be damned if I know why or how it all works. We are to it what a single cell is to your entire body.” 

“So everyone says,” Anima said. 

“So you yelled at him, and now – I can’t help but notice – the mortals are all staying in Asgard and receiving medical attention,” Loki said, “Did you make the king, _our_ king, back down?”

“I think I did. I don’t think anyone as insignificant as me has ever yelled at him before,” Anima said.

“I’m so sorry I missed it,” Loki said.

“You will need to return the tesseract today,” Anima said.

“Nah,” Loki said.

“You have to!”

“No, I don’t. I took it from the vault and it will have to go back there, but you can hand it over to Bor and watch his face turn purple, I’m not putting it back. Besides, how does he think you brought them all here? The Bifrost?” Loki asked.

“I guess so,” Anima said, “That’s the only other way.”

“I bet you could just do it all on your own, if you wanted to,” Loki said.

“You’re amazing for my sense of self-worth, but teleporting between realms is _not_ possible, not even for the strongest sorcerer in Asgard,” Anima said.

Loki looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, “One day, Puppy, you are going to prove yourself wrong, and when that day comes I am going to win a castle,” he said with a smile.


	46. Sibling Rivalry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all,
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I had a sudden attack of 'write the first chapter of the fourth story in this series' and felt like I had to get it all down before the inspiration faded... so there's about 10,000 words of story that you will eventually get to read all done and waiting for the right moment.
> 
> I'll try not to do it again.

Bor was waiting for Odin when he and Hela returned from visiting the manufacturing district of the city.

“Do you know what your daughter has done?” he bellowed across the yard as Odin dismounted.

Without meaning to, Odin glanced across at Hela before turning his attention back to his father.

“Which daughter?” he asked as Bor came within normal speaking range.

“Anima,” Bor said, “Damn girl brought half of Midgard to our healers’ rooms!”

“WHAT?!” Odin exclaimed in disbelief.

 _“What?”_ Hela said gleefully, taking in the annoyance on Bor’s face.

“She brought them all here in the middle of the night,” Bor said, “I was going to discuss it with you this morning but you left early. There’s dozens of them!”

Odin just stared at his father as though waiting for the joke to land, he had no idea how to react.

“How did she do it?” he asked eventually.

Bor’s frown deepened, “I have no idea,” he said, “The Bifrost operators know better than to let anyone go to Midgard, and the tesseract is locked away. She _said_ she’d used it previously though, which I did _not_ know about.”

“I’ll talk to her at once,” Odin said.

“Can I watch?” Hela asked, “What? Anima is the _baby_ ; she never gets into trouble for anything.”

“She can’t go doing this again,” Bor said, “I won’t have my granddaughters running around disobeying my orders. Midgard is off limits! Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You called her granddaughter,” Odin said, unable to to hide his change of expression when Bor used the term. Up until now Bor had always referred to her as ‘your daughter’ or ‘girl’ or, very occasionally, by her actual name.

“Well she _is_ , isn’t she? Didn’t know she could yell like that but she must have gotten it from our side. Loud little thing when she wants to be,” Bor said, sounding halfway between annoyed and proud.

“Where is she?” Odin asked.

Bor shrugged, “Healers’ rooms, probably. The mortals are all asleep until they are healed, then they can all go home again. I won’t have them hanging around making the place dirty.”

“Mortals aren’t dirty,” Odin said.

“These ones are,” Bor said, “I could smell them as soon as I walked in; animal stink, mostly.”

“That’s strange,” Odin said, “None of the mortals I ever met smelled like animals.”

“Weren’t all the mortals you met on the battlefield?” Hela asked, “Maybe they did but all the blood and weapons-fire covered it up.”

“More likely the mortals have struggled to rebuild after the war and their civilisations have devolved,” Odin said, “I knew we should have made more of an effort to help them rebuild.”

“Too late now,” Bor said brusquely, “And the sooner this lot go back the better,” he looked back and forth between Odin and Hela, “Teaching leadership?” he asked.

“I was showing Hela the manufacturing district and explaining how the trade agreements led to prosperity,” Odin said.

“Take Daianya with you as well next time,” Bor said, “She’s going to be a queen one day and I want her to know what goes into ruling a realm.”

“So she _is_ going to marry Prince Norbleen!” Hela said.

“He’s the logical choice,” Bor said, “so make sure she gets a thorough education. I’ve heard reports that Norbleen is a competent young man, but just in case that’s a lie and he’s an idiot like his father I want Daianya to be prepared.” 

“As you wish,” Odin said.

**** 

Odin found Anima in the healers’ rooms, sitting by the side of a young man with a patchy beard.

“Anima, what did you do?” he asked her, lowering himself into the chair beside her.

“I answered a call for help,” Anima said, turning to look at him with a stubborn expression, “And I would do it again. None of these people deserve to die.”

“I believe you,” Odin said, “You impressed your grandfather.”

“I made him bloody furious,” Anima said.

“When it comes to Father those two things are often synonymous,” Odin said with a smile.

“Are you upset with me?” Anima asked.

Odin shook his head, “No, my child, I am surprised, shocked, baffled, confused, amused, bemused… but most of all I am impressed. I know you are not a child anymore but you will always be _my_ child, and so finding out that you are off having your own adventures and making friends I don’t know about shakes the realm beneath my feet, but I am not disappointed in the change.”

Anima leaned into his shoulder and he gave her a hug.

“Although your Grandfather would like to know how you got them all here,” Odin asked. 

Anima straightened up, reached into her pocket and pulled out the tesseract with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“That’s supposed to be in the weapons’ vault,” Odin said.

“I know, I got Uncle Loki to steal it for me,” Anima said, “But he refuses to put it back, so I’m going to have to tell King Bor that I have it.”

Odin took the tesseract from her gently, “How about I tell him?” he offered, “And you can promise not to take it again – not even by proxy.”

Anima sighed, “I wish I could promise,” she said, “But if they ever need me like this again I _will_ be going. I promise not to take it for anything frivolous though, alright?”

It was Odin’s turn to sigh, “Alright,” he said, “But I’m only agreeing because I know I can’t convince you otherwise, you are as stubborn as your mother was.”

“Did she ever yell at King Bor?” Anima asked.

Odin stared off into distant memory and slowly nodded his head, “Oh yes,” he said, “She argued with him constantly; that’s why he liked her so much.”

****

Hela found Daianya in the training yard, wrestling with Tyr, who was straining hard as he forced Daianya down onto her knees.

“King Bor told me that you’re going to marry Prince Norbleen,” Hela said, “And he wants you to come out with Father and me when he teaches me about leadership.”

“That’s… not… ideal…” Daianya grunted, pushing back against Tyr as hard as she could. Her muscles were bulging with the strain of effort.

“Oh come now, Vanaheim’s not so bad,” Hela said with a slightly mocking edge to her tone, “You’ll be so happy with a baby in your belly making you waddle around all day, so much for the Valkyrie.”

“I… meant… going… anywhere… with…you…” Daianya managed, forcing Tyr back with a last grunt of effort.

Hela scowled, “I’m going to be so glad when you are sent away to Vanaheim,” she said, “When I’m queen I will never let you come back.”

Daianya spun, landing a solid blow against Tyr’s face and causing him to stagger backwards, “You really are a hateful person, Hela,” she said.

Tyr ran at her from behind, but Daianya ducked to the side without looking at him, causing him to fly forwards and crash into Hela, who hit the ground with a grunt as the wind was knocked out of her.

“You disgusting creep,” she hissed at him as he scrambled to his feet.

“You’re the one standing inside the training ring,” he spat back, “You’d know not to do that if you ever bothered to come and learn some training of your own!”

Hela jumped to her feet with a snarl, “I don’t need training to defeat a little boy like you,” she said and summoned two knives.

“Hela, stop it,” Daianya said sternly, “Training with sharpened blades is forbidden without permission from the generals.”

“Who says I’m in training?” Hela said, “I’m going to kill the little twerp.”

She lunged forwards, causing Tyr to fall back and jump to the side. He had no weapon of his own; they had been wrestling to warm up and his sword was sitting by the side of the rings next to the other trainee Valkyrie, who were watching with fear in their eyes.

“Tarah, go and get a general!” Daianya said urgently.

“Which one?” Tarah asked, jumping to her feet.

 _“Any of them!”_ Daianya called as she circled Hela from behind.

Tarah and the other trainees ran off in all directions to find a general as Daianya lightly tapped a gem on her pendant.

Her swords appeared on her belt and she drew them out slowly, keeping her eyes on Hela.

“You need to stop, Hela,” she said, “He’s unarmed, a trainee, and a child, this is not a fair match."

“He insulted my honour,” Hela said, sounding pleased rather than upset, “That means I get to kill him.”

“No it doesn’t,” Daianya yelled as Hela lunged again and Tyr dove for his weapons. He managed to grab his sword and bring it up to block Hela’s downward blow, but only just. Daianya’s grip tightened on her swords as she watched for an opening.

“Yes it does. The law is on my side this time,” Hela said.

 _This time?_ Nal thought in Daianya’s head, _What does she mean by ‘this time’?_

“The law states that if your honour is insulted by a minor then his father must answer for him in gold or in combat, the law is _not_ on your side – Hela _STOP!_ "

Hela slashed at Tyr in a frenzy, her eyes were alight with joy and her expression was one of utter madness. Tyr fell back and fell again, desperately trying to keep up with the frenzy of blows from Hela’s two blades to his one.

Hela brought her arm up and slashed downwards in a hard blow strong enough to tear through him…

… and was stopped with a clang as Daianya jumped between them, catching Hela’s blade on her own sword with a cry of effort.

Hela pulled back and began swinging at her new target, delight shining in her face as she swung harder and harder.

Daianya deflected the blows one after the other, focussing only on keeping Hela busy so that Tyr could escape. She could see Hela’s soul in front of her, giving her a split second warning of where the next blow was coming from. After the first few seconds it actually got easier to defend against her sister. As Hela became more and more frustrated by her inability to land a hit, she gave more and more of her ever increasingly erratic strategy away. Daianya’s training began to assert itself, and she swung in after Hela’s next blow, cutting Hela’s arm at the wrist and forcing her to drop her sword from that hand. 

Hela shrieked in anger and slashed with the other hand even as her injury began to heal. The moment she could, she summoned another blade and returned to fighting with both hands, but Daianya was steady now, and she waited patiently for Hela’s next move, at which point Daianya slashed Hela’s wrist open again.

A second later, she was able to take advantage of another opening in Hela’s defences and cut her other wrist, forcing her to drop her second blade.

Hela screamed in fury and ran at Daianya with two useless wrists and no weapons. Daianya waited until she got close and then ducked down, caught Hela under the shoulder, and tossed her overhead and into the dirt.

A roar of laughter got their attention; it was King Bor. He was standing off to the side with General Hymir and General Solveig at his side.

“Well done, Granddaughter, well done!” he said cheerfully, “There’s not a lot of warriors who can stand up to Hela, that was a fantastic display of skill.”

“Yes it was,” General Solveig said in a more measured tone, “However I would like to know why you two are fighting in the training yard with sharpened blades.”

“Hela can’t summon any other kind,” Daianya said.

Hela rose from the dirt with murder in her eye and her wrists already healed. Her hand twitched and a new blade appeared.

“Hela that’s enough,” Bor said, “You lost, deal with it gracefully and take a few lessons in defensive movement, you never did have the patience for training before, perhaps now you can see the merit in it.”

Hela’s eyes narrowed and she pointed at Tyr, “He insulted my honour, I demand satisfaction by combat,” she said.

“You already got it,” Bor said, “Daianya clearly stood in defence of him, and you clearly lost. It’s over.”

Hela growled under her breath and stormed out of the training yard without another word.

King Bor turned to Tyr, “Say thank you to my granddaughter for defending you,” he said.

Tyr pinched his lips together. If anything he looked annoyed that Daianya had jumped into the fight. His father, General Hymir, gave him a pointed glare.

“Thank you for defending me,” Tyr said, looking at the ground.

“Indeed, your Grace, thank you for coming to the defence of my son,” General Hymir said, “And he is sorry that he insulted a member of the royal family.”

Tyr looked as though he was going to protest but at another glare from his father he shut his mouth.

“It’s of little matter,” Bor said, “Knowing Hela she probably deserved it anyway. Now, Granddaughter, I want you to start going with your father out to learn about leadership, it’s not all exciting battles and sword-swinging, although by Yggdrasil’s grace I wish it were. I’ve told General Solveig my decision so she already knows you’ll miss a few training session here and there. She says she’s not concerned because you’re doing so well. You’ll be a full Valkyrie very soon at this rate.”

General Solveig nodded, “Your progress has been remarkable,” she said, “Just let me know when you are going so that I can tell your teachers not to expect you that lesson.”

Daianya gave them both a bow, “Yes Grandfather, yes General,” she said.


	47. A Secret Told

It was early morning on the second day since the arrival of the Mortals when Anima snuck into the healer’s rooms. She had cast a spell of invisibility on herself and had half a dozen crystals in her pocket all spelled with things she thought she might need.

Senan’s wound was healed; the only reason he still lay sleeping was because the healers were still working their way through the rest of the wounded. They had told Anima the previous evening that they expected to have them all healed by the sunrise after next.

What Anima chose to hear, was that she had one day left in which to spend with Senan before he was sent back to Midgard forever, and she was determined not to waste it.

She stole one of the sleeping stones off a nearby tray with a subtle hand and went to his bedside. As soon as the healer had left the room, she ran the stone over his forehead with the spell in reverse.

Senan’s eyes fluttered open as Anima dropped her invisibility spell.

“You have to be quiet,” she said softly.

“Hello, Ani-darlin’,” he said in a low voice, “Why have I got to be quiet?”

“Because you’re not supposed to be awake, or even leave this room,” Anima said, “But before they send you back to your village I want to show you my home, and that means we have to be sneaky.”

Senan smiled at her, “You weren’t born to follow any rules, were you love?” he asked.

Anima grinned at him and helped him off the bed. She put a crystal in his place and waved her hand over it. A moment later a vision of a sleeping Senan was lying on the bed, as real to look at as the man who stood beside her with an impressed look on his face.

“Hold this one and take my hand,” Anima said softly, pushing another crystal into his hand. The moment he took it he vanished from sight. He took her hand and she led him out of the healer’s rooms, down the many wide stairways and golden corridors, and out into the gardens that surrounded the palace.

“Okay, we’re alone,” Anima said, “Give me back the crystal.”

She held out her hand and Senan put the crystal on her palm. He reappeared in an instant.

“I took some clothes from the laundry this morning,” Anima said, “You can’t go to the city wearing what you have on, you’ll stand out too much.”

“Is it the blood stains?” Senan asked.

“It’s everything really,” Anima admitted, “Even those who wear fur all the time don’t wear it like that.”

Senan disappeared behind a bush and re-emerged in proper Asgardian attire. Anima had deliberately chosen upper level commoner clothing, as too lower class would make people wonder why she was with him, and too upper class would just make him feel uncomfortable.

He still looked uncomfortable, but Anima hoped not too much to prevent enjoying himself.

She reached out her hand and linked her arm through his. “Ready?” she asked nervously.

“I’m ready, show me you world, my Fairy Princess,” he said, giving her a smile.

They walked across the gardens and out of the main gate together. Senan couldn’t help but tilt his head backwards to look up at the sheer height of it as they passed beneath.

“Do you have giants livin’ here?” he asked her.

“No, they live on Jotunheim,” Anima said.

“Oh, so you made the gates big for when your friends, the _giants_ come visitin’,” Senan said, “Fair enough.”

Anima led him down to the heart of the city. He stared in wonder at the scale of everything, at the sheer size of the buildings, at the bustle and flow of the crowds. When she bought him hot lamb on skewers and a tankard of ale he stared at them in wonder as well.

“I’ve only have lamb twice before in me life,” he said.

“You used to watch sheep!” Anima said.

“I did, yeah, but my job was to keep them alive, you can’t eat them unless they’re dead and I used to get into a world of trouble for letting that happen,” Senan said.

“How did the attackers get to your village?” Anima asked him, “You said your king would hold them off.”

“He did too, for a few years, but each battle took more men away from them, and the attackers kept getting’ more from the north. Something must’ve happened up there because every month or so more men kept arrivin’, and they were all hungry and desperate. The king fell in battle a month ago, and his son is still just a boy so they elected my old master as the new king. He didn’t do that good of job protectin’ us once he took the crown. The lands further up the river are more prosperous anyway, so he took most of the men and put them up there to protect the crops. I guess the attackers must’ve worked out what he’d done because they came flying down in numbers straight for the village. I heard the screams through the forest and went runnin’.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there any faster,” Anima said.

“You saved me people, Ani, you saved me sister and her babe, you did better than me, I only had a sword snatched from a fallen man, you picked them up off the ground like… like… like a god.”

“I’m not a god,” Anima said, “But I do have magic.”

“Fairy magic,” Senan said, grinning at her.

Anima laughed, “If that’s what you insist on calling it, then fine, fairy magic. It sounds more charming that way anyway.”

Senan took a gulp of his ale and made a moan of enjoyment, “Oooh… this is good stuff. I’ve never drunk such pure ale in me life.”

After breakfast they walked around the city arm in arm. Anima showed him the markets, the public library, the theatre – where they saw a short play being performed telling the story of some of Yggdrasil’s inhabitants and how the gossiping nature of Ratatoskr caused trouble all along the branches – and finally the shoreline, where they sat eating little cakes and dangling their legs over the wall above the sea as the sun slowly set in front of them.

“And it just… falls off the edge?” Senan asked.

“Yep, just continuously falls all day and night,” Anima said.

“Where does it all come from?” Senan asked her.

“Some of it is snowmelt from the mountains, but the majority springs from the well of Mimir and the Waters of Sight. Every realm has a… reflection of the well… an outlet from which the water can flow. But once it leaves the source it’s just water, you have to go to the source at the centre of Asgard _and_ know what you’re doing to contact the Norns or summon a vision. Asgard’s outlet is a continuous flow, Migard’s is said to be a still water pond inside a deep cave,” Anima said.

Senan nodded uncertainly, “You know a lot about magical things,” he said, “I never even knew there were nine whole realms.”

“Nine physical realms on Yggdrasil, nine more spiritual ones which act as a reflection of the realms we know, and thousands more worlds unconnected by the Yggdrasil’s branches that just sort of happened on their own,” Anima said, “I’ve studied some of them, but I’ve only ever visited one, and that was with my Father when we went to find out what the tesseract really was.”

Senan just looked at her, “You’ve been to three different _worlds_ and I’ve only ever stayed inside the boundary of my king’s lands,” he said, “I feel so small.”

“Do you want to see more?” Anima asked him tentatively, “We could… we could travel together, use the Bifrost, see other worlds? I know the King isn’t too happy about me bringing you all here but I’ll fight him for you if you want to stay.”

Senan shook his head, “I can’t fathom it, Ani, I mean, I’d love to go adventurin’, I think it sounds wonderful, but me sister’s man was cut down in the square before you got there, she needs me to help look after her and the baby. And the village will need rebuildin’, most of the strong young men are off west defendin’ the crops out there. I can’t stay here, not when I’m needed at home.”

“I could come with you?” Anima said, “I could help you rebuild.”

“Would that make you happy?” Senan asked her, “To leave all this behind and come live with me in a one room hut? I have eyes, Fairy Princess, I can see the life you’re used to, and I don’t want to take it away from you. Will you be happy in my village in a year? In ten?”

“I love you,” Anima said simply.

“Is that enough?” Senan asked her, “Because if it is then I’ll take you home right now, lie you on my bed of furs and claim you as my woman, because I love you too and everything about you makes me heart warm and fluttery same as the day I met you, but I can’t see how you won’t come to hate me for it, if you have to give up all of this.”

Anima looked out at the water sadly.

“I really want to say yes,” she said, “But I can’t. If I leave King Bor will not let me back, if I stay he might let you stay as well, but you can’t stay.”

“I have a duty,” Senan said, “I’d be a poor man of honour if I didn’t do it. But were this any other life then I’d run away with you, Ani, to one of those worlds you mentioned, and we’d spend all our days without anyone to care for but ourselves.”

“If I had any other life, I’d come and find you in yours and hold you to your word,” Anima said, wiping away the beginning of tears.

“Thank you for today, Ani-darlin’, thank you for showin’ me your world and your people, and all the fine things I could never have imagined in all my life,” Senan said.

“Will you do one thing for me?” Anima asked him, a slightly stubborn expression taking root on her face.

“What’s that?” Senan asked.

“Will you take me back to my bed and make me your woman, if only for today?” Anima asked him.

“Will there be trouble for you if I do?” Senan asked her.

“I won’t let there be,” Anima said.

“In that case, I’d very much like to escort you back to your bed, my Fairy Princess.”

****

Loki was killing time in the tree garden, which right now was not looking particularly impressive. There were a large number of trees, but they were all still young and the wide spacing that would one day be necessary to ensure health and impressive aesthetics was right now making the place look sparse and slightly barren.

Pride of place had been given to the Home’s Shelter tree, which was now two years old and well established. It was also only waist high, and about a metre round.

A cage had been placed over it to stop people using it as a seat. Loki could see the appeal, the squat branches were already thick enough to take a decent amount of weight, but Nal was being protective during the tree’s younger years. Damage or strain when the tree was still in its period of rapid growth would impact it for the rest of its life.

Loki sat on the cage instead, because he knew it would annoy her.

Half an hour later he was proven right as Nal came into the garden and immediately scowled at him.

“Get down off there,” she said to him, “You’re blocking the sunlight.”

“Sun’s almost down, how much more can it get?” Loki asked her cheerfully.

“If I say please will you consider it?” Nal asked him, walking onwards with a shovel and a new sapling in her arms.

Loki jumped down immediately and followed her. “How’s defensive practice going?” he asked.

“It’s going well, I can throw him nine times out of ten now,” Nal said.

“Are you sure he’s not letting you? He is a master at the style,” Loki said.

“Of course he’s letting me, he taught me the move and now he is helping me practice by imitating attackers with a basic level of fighting skill. He says he will make it harder for me shortly and we will work upwards from there,” Nal said.

“I bet you can’t throw me,” Loki said.

“You’re probably right; I’ve heard too many stories of you charging like a lunatic into battle and coming out alive to underestimate you,” Nal said.

“Don’t you want to try it though?” Loki asked.

Nal put the sapling down and stuck her shovel into the dirt, “Not particularly. I don’t enjoy fighting for its own sake. I think it’s stupid. But as long as other people insist on being violent I need to know how to defend myself. Is that really why you were waiting in the garden? To ask me if I would throw you?”

“That and to try and convince you to practice throwing up ice walls,” Loki said.

Nal rolled her eyes and shoved the shovel deeper into the dirt.

“They’re defensive! And with practice you can throw one up really quickly, which is handy in a fight against multiple enemies,” Loki said.

“And when do you anticipate me having multiple enemies?” Nal asked him, “Do the people of Asgard hate me that much?”

Loki sighed softly, “No, but a few crazies might get together one day, and I’m not always going to be around to help you. I was only in the market that day because I was buying hot pepper powder to put in Bor’s underwear.”

“I knew you weren’t following me, you weren’t wearing any gloves to protect yourself from having your code read,” Nal said, “One day I _will_ find out what you are hiding.”

“I already told you, I hold the key to perfection, and you need to be quite a bit more mature than you are now before I will let you touch it,” Loki said.

Nal went back to shovelling.

 _Can one of you ask the servants to bring my dinner up to my rooms tonight? I’m working on a spell and I’m going to skip the feast. Tell them to leave it outside the door and I’ll get it when I’m ready, it’s a sensitive spell and I don’t want any interruption,_ Anima thought into Nal’s head.

 _Will do,_ Nal thought back, followed by Daianya’s reply.

_You do know I can sense deception, right?_

_I am busy with something important and I don’t want to be interrupted,_ Anima thought back, _Please do not leave the feast early._

 _Just because you are technically telling the truth doesn’t mean I can’t still sense deception in your soul,_ Daianya thought.

 _Please?_ Anima thought.

_Alright, but I don’t see why you have to lie to us._

__

__

_Fine. I’m taking Senan to bed, happy?_

Nal, who had paused in her digging to listen to her sisters’ conversation, made a slight yelping sound and hastily began digging again.

“What just happened?” Loki asked.

“Daianya was just expressing how strange it was for King Bor to make her go with Father and Hela to learn about realm management,” Nal lied.

“Not that strange,” Loki said, “I’m pretty sure Bor is setting Daianya up to be Queen of Asgard after Odin.”

“What?” Nal said, “What about Hela?”

“What about her?”

“She’s the eldest, and the heir,” Nal said.

“King’s make the laws, my Princess, and Bor would have to be a fool not to disinherit Hela, she’s violent and unstable. I know Odin still has faith in her and has been taking a more direct hand in teaching her lately, but Bor can see what Odin can’t: Hela will be a terrible queen,” Loki said.

“If he changes the law, then that throws every generation into chaos,” Nal said, “It means that each ruler will choose their own successor, and _that_ means there will be conflicts and infighting between rival claimants to the throne.”

“Yup, good times,” Loki said.

“Chaotic times,” Nal said.

“Like I said, good. I knew you would hone in on the down side to changing the law immediately, you have the right kind of mind for leadership,” Loki said, “You have your father’s mind, and your grandmother’s.”

Nal shook her head, “I don’t want to be a leader, I want to be a gardener,” she said.

“Just because you don’t want to do something doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be good at it,” Loki said, “And you spotted the long-term issue with changing that particular law, and yet it has to be done, because Hela is not fit to rule.”

“I will never understand Hela,” Nal said, “She’s nothing like Father, nothing like Grandmother, in fact she’s not even like King Bor, other than they both enjoy a good fight, she’s…”

“A monster,” Loki said simply.

“That’s a little harsh,” Nal.

“No, it’s a lot true,” Loki said, “All my children are monsters, so I consider myself an expert on the subject.”

“Daianya says Hela is cancer,” Nal said.

“Vicious, attacks her own without mercy, if left untreated grows more and more deadly? Yes, that’s quite an apt description,” Loki said.

“So where did she even come from?” Nal wondered, “What obscure branch of the family tree managed to emerge in her that skipped the rest of us?”

“Weeeeeell, the other thing to consider is… maybe… sort of… perhaps… she might not be from your family tree,” Loki said awkwardly.

“What?” Nal asked.

 _WHAT?_ Anima chimed in.

 _ **WHAT?**_ Daianya added.

“Well, you see, back in the day when your father and his lovely wife Helda were a lot younger, they weren’t getting along quite as well as they came to later on, and me being so new to Asgard and still finding my way, well… maybe… I sort of… perhaps…”

“You slept with the _crown princess_?” Nal exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down! Yes. I did. A bit,” Loki said.

“How do you sleep with someone ‘a bit’?” Nal asked.

“Weeeeell… your father might have been there – ”

“What?!”

“ – and everything was going everywhere and lots of fun was being had – ”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Nal said.

“ – but then afterwards she told us she was pregnant and so we all thought it must have been Odin’s because I was using a contraceptive spell I got from a witch down at the market. So everything was fine until Hela was about two and her nurse died, I mean, sure it might be just her god power, but like I said, all my children are monsters, and really every passing day has only made me more and more suspicious. I’d love to read her code and find out for sure but Hela’s not one for holding still and letting you touch her. I asked her to dance once thinking I might have a chance but she turned me down.”

“Does Father have the same suspicions?” Nal asked.

“I don’t doubt it; but he chose to accept her as his the moment she was born regardless of any suspicions, and even now with her violence and her impulsive nature he won’t abandon her. Bor has _no_ idea, although I think Bestla knows.”

“Grandmother would have held her as a baby and read her code then; she definitely knows,” Nal said.

Loki nodded slowly, “Funny really, because I saw her face when Hela was first shown to her and Bestla looked suspicious right away, before she even held her.”

“I don’t see how, it’s not like Hela came out with your red hair,” Nal said.

“Grandmotherly intuition? I don’t know, but if I’m right and Hela is mine, then I am, once again, responsible for unleashing a monster onto Asgard,” Loki said.

“Is that why you spend so much of your time keeping her attention focussed on you?” Nal asked him as she carefully set the sapling into position.

“Honestly? Yeah. If I’m right then I am somewhat responsible for unleashing her upon Asgard, so I have a duty to keep her from causing too much havoc,” Loki said, “And if I _am_ right then Hela will never be suitable for the throne. The true nature of my children – at least those I fathered and therefore had no control over the making of – is destructive and untameable. Odin can’t teach that out of her, no matter how hard he tries. Bor may not know the truth but he can see that she is not fit to rule, and so unless Odin marries again and fathers a son, Daianya is the next in line to the throne.”

 _I’m not going to be sent to Vanaheim, am I?_ Daianya thought, _That visit I went on, the way Grandfather keeps dangling a betrothal but not going through it, that’s all to keep his true plans hidden until he is ready to reveal them._

 _I think you’re right,_ Nal thought back.

 _I can’t believe Uncle Loki and Father had a threesome,_ Anima chimed in.


	48. Sometimes Love Comes With A Potato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who do not like sexual scenes, this chapter opens with one. Start reading again when you get to the feast hall.

The feast each night drew nobles from every obscure corner of the palace. The hall was warm and inviting, and ale was plentiful and the food overflowing as the air filled with chatter.

Every serving and kitchen servant would be hard at work, scurrying back and forth to deliver the enormous servings to the long tables filled with nobles and warriors of note. The cooks in the kitchen stirred and tasted and shouted orders as a full day’s work finally came to its height.

Away from the feasting hall, the cleaning servants would scurry about through the rooms, picking up laundry, cleaning floors and carpets, polishing doorframes and handles. The feasts in Bor’s Asgard lasted hours, and not a minute was wasted by anyone.

One kitchen servant picked up a tray overflowing with food from the night’s feast and rode the long elevator to the top of the Princesses’ Tower. He left the tray sitting outside Anima’s room as instructed and left as quickly as he could. Magic was common enough to see around Asgard, but rare enough among the general population that no one really wanted to be close to it when someone was experimenting.

On the other side of the door, Anima and Senan looked at one another shyly. Now that they were in private they were both feeling a little unsure of themselves.

“Do you know what to do?” Anima asked him.

“I used to watch the sheep,” Senan said, “Not like that!” he exclaimed when she started to giggle, “I mean I used to have to watch them all the time, and sometimes they’d, you know, and they always did it from behind.”

“The books I read on Mortal and Asgardian mating practices showed both of then doing it facing each other,” Anima said.

“I think I’d prefer that, I like looking at your face, it’s beautiful,” Senan said.

Anima started blushing and she looked away shyly, “I think you are the only one on this realm who would say that,” she said.

“Are the people here blind?” Senan asked.

“No, it’s just that they don’t really look at me at all,” Anima said.

Senan stepped forwards and put his arms around her, “Then I’m standing in a world of fools, and I’m the only clever man in it,” he said, and kissed her.

His kiss was tender, and sent a shiver down her spine as she leaned into it, encouraging him to keep going. The warmth of his body seeped into hers and she brought her arms up to wrap around his chest and back, pulling him closer as he cradled her face in his hands. For a few minutes they stood in the centre of the room completely lost in the feel of one another, and then Anima broke the kiss and took half a step back. She trailed her hand across his front and curled her fingers around the ties of his coat.

“I really want you to take this off,” she said with a smile.

Senan grinned and pulled the ties open with hasty fingers. He slid the coat off his shoulders and threw it over the back of Anima’s desk chair.

“Better? Or do you want me to keep goin’?” he asked.

Anima giggled and undid the sash of her dress, letting it fall onto the floor as she undid the buttons down the front. Senan paused in tugging his shirt to watch her as she slipped the dress of her shoulders and let it fall at her feet, leaving behind only her underwear.

“You’ve got the prettiest navel I’ve ever seen,” Senan said in such a firm tone that Anima started to laugh.

“Can I see yours? Or is it a secret?” she asked.

He pulled his shirt off and let it fall, before holding still and posing in order to show off his navel to best effect.

Anima laughed again and reached out, trailing her hand down his chest until her fingers played over his stomach. “It’s beautiful,” she said in as serious a tone as she could manage, which was not very much. Her eyes were sparkling with laughter.

Senan leaned down and kissed her again, this time deeply and with a great deal of pent up passion. “I wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you,” he said, “I wanted to hold you the second time, and I wanted to love you just like this since the third time.”

“The third time was when I brought you potatoes,” Anima said, between kisses.

“Love comes in many forms,” Senan said, trailing kisses down her neck, “Sometimes it comes with a potato.”

Anima moaned softly and let her eyes flutter closed, his kisses were making her knees feel weak.

She returned the favour, kissing his skin gently from shoulder to stomach, working her way down until she was kneeling in front of him. She reached up and undid the ties holding his pants up. Senan reached down and encased her hands in his.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “I know we’re half-naked and I definitely don’t want to stop, but are you sure you won’t get into trouble? A princess is not a maid of the fields, she doesn’t get the same choices, or faces the same consequences.”

Anima pulled the last tie loose and let his pants fall to the ground. “I’m sure, Asgard doesn’t care what a maiden does, even if she’d a princess, provided she doesn’t have a child from it.”

“And you won’t?”

“The spell I cast won’t let me, I promise. I want this, Senan, I want _you_ , if only for a day and a night.”

“You make it sounds like our love is a spell,”

“Well it feels magical to me,” Anima said, standing up and giving him a kiss.

Senan stepped out of his fallen pants and wrapped his arms around her again, deepening what she started, “Ani I want a thousand days and a thousand nights,” he breathed, “But I’ll treasure my one of each for a thousand years.”

Anima pulled her underwear loose and let it fall, exposing her body fully to his gaze. His face took on a look of wonder, “How can anyone in this world ignore someone as beautiful as you?” he asked and pulled her in close. 

Skin to skin they clung to each other, kissing deeply and letting their hands roam across backs, thighs and buttocks. Anima broke the kiss long enough to pull Senan down onto her bed and they lay pressed together, just exploring every part of one another as their desire built.

Senan was the one who broke their kiss this time. He shifted until he was above her and kissed her skin in a trail from her collarbone down over her breasts, gently peppering them with kisses and strokes from his fingers before moving further downwards, over her stomach – with one kiss for her navel which made them both giggle – then lower again until her reached the hair covering her pubic mound. He trailed his fingertips through the hairs, tickling her and making her giggle, before letting his fingers drift lower across her vulva, before carefully pressing his fingers inside.

Anima gave a little gasp at the feeling, and widened her legs to give him better access. He kissed the inside of one thigh and moved his fingers in gentle circles, slowly finding each spot that made her jump, gasp or moan, and returning to touch them again and again.

Anima reached a hand down towards him, “I want to kiss you,” she said.

Senan kissed his way back up the length of her body, shifting the angle of his hand so that he could keep pleasuring her with his fingers. 

Anima kissed him hard, holding his head with one hand while the other slid down his body to touch his penis. Senan jumped slightly and she withdrew, “Oh, did I hurt you?” she asked, worried.

“No, no, definitely not,” he said in a rush, “I just wasn’t expectin’ it, and it turns out someone else’s hand is _much_ nicer than my own.”

Anima grinned and touched him again, watching with laughing eyes as his expression changed from anticipated to aroused to almost cross-eyed.

“If you keep this up I’m goin’ to be disappointing you real soon,” he gasped.

Anima withdrew her hand and stroked his thigh instead as he caught his breath, “I want you inside of me,” she said, reaching up and stroking his hair back from his forehead. 

He kissed her again, pressing her against the pillows and shifting until he lay between her legs. He reached down and cupped her thighs from underneath, gently pulling her legs wider and higher. He sat up slightly and returned his fingers to her entrance, gently sliding one finger further inside. Anima’s eyes half closed and she moaned softly as he gently worked another finger inside, using his thumb to keep up a gentle rubbing across the sensitive skin around her entrance. 

He struggled to inch a third finger inside, and paused to look at her, “I’ve been told every woman has a seal that must be broken when she takes a man for the first time,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Anima smiled at him, “I’ve read about hymens, it can tear, especially the first time, but if you go slowly it shouldn’t hurt. Please Senan, I want this, I’ll tell you if it hurts too much, I promise.”

He nodded, a little nervously, but moved his fingers again until she began to give little moans of pleasure, before he withdrew his fingers and shifted until he was lined up against her.

“Ani I love you,” he said, “My Fairy Princess.”

He pressed slowly inside of her. Anima’s breath caught as he breached her entrance. There was a slight burning sensation as he stretched her further, and she gritted her teeth until it began to fade. He pushed inside with a slow, steady, stroke, watching her face closely until he was fully inside of her.

Anima reached up and pulled his face down towards her, kissing him deeply as she pulled her legs up further still and pressed her thighs against his hips. Senan began to move his hips in response, sliding in and out of her slowly, one arm supporting his weight and the other coming up to cup her breast, rubbing at the nipple with his thumb.

Anima braced her feet against the bed as best she could and moved back against him, matching his movements as their momentum began to build.

Senan’s breathing was heavy, Anima’s was coming in pants, their movements grew less coordinated as the pleasure intensified.

Anima sudden winced and clung hard to Senan, digging her fingers into his back as she let out a cry. He pulled back slightly, looking down at her to see if she was okay as she relaxed against the pillows. 

“Oh wow,” she said between gasps of air, “Okay… wow.”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, yes I am,” she panted.

He started moving again, making her moan softly. She pulled him down to kiss her again and rubbed down the length of his back as he thrust for a few more minutes, until he gave a gasp of his own and tensed up in release.

He pulled out of her and rolled to the side, before glancing down and sitting up in a panic.

“You’re bleedin’!” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I’m sorry!”

“Lie down, I’m too sleepy to hug you from up there,” Anima said, reaching up an arm lazily, “Yes I bled but it’s fine, it’s already stopped and it didn’t hurt.”

“It didn’t?” Senan asked, slowly sinking back down until she could snuggle against him.

“No, you didn’t hurt me, it felt really good actually,” Anima said with a smile.

“Oh… oh good, I thought… I mean, with the blood…” he babbled.

“I’m fine, just sleepy,” Anima said, “I promise.”

She reached down and grabbed a handful of the blanket that sat on the end of her bed and pulled it over them both. Senan grabbed the other end and helped her.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Anima said, trailing her hand against his face.

****

Down far below in the feast hall, Hela downed the last of her ale and called for another. On the other end of the table, Daianya and Nal sat with identical poker faces, watching her closely.

“Do you think it’s true?” Daianya said softly.

“Loki lies as easily as he breathes, but I don’t think he did so this time,” Nal responded, just as quietly.

Normally they would converse inside their heads where they could be sure of total privacy, but by unspoken agreement they were avoiding thought-based communication this evening out of respect for Anima, who almost certainly didn’t want their speculations about Hela echoing in her head.

“Even if it is, Father still claimed her as his own,” Daianya mumbled, “She’s legally the eldest.”

“If word made it as far as King Bor’s ears then I doubt that would matter to him,” Nal said, “If he’s already looking for a way to disinherit her then that could be the perfect opening.”

“Why wouldn’t Loki tell him? Plant the suspicion in his mind? It’s not like Loki has ever cared about causing massive amounts of chaos before now,” Daianya said.

“Maybe he’s hoping one of us will do it?” Nal wondered, “Why else would he tell us unless he was hoping we’d act upon the information?”

“Because it’s Loki, Loki doesn’t need a reason other than ‘fun’ to do anything,” Daianya said.

“That’s true,” Nal conceded, “Maybe he was just messing around, or maybe he was trying to warn us.”

“Warn us?”

“If Hela is truly his, and all the children he has fathered are monsters, then Hela is more dangerous than we realised,” Nal said, “and she’s currently furious at you.”

Daianya shifted in her seat, “She’s not the only one,” she said, “Tyr hasn’t spoken to me once since the fight. I’m supposed to train with him tomorrow and he’s practically avoiding me.”

“Tyr should grow up and get over it,” Nal said, “There are bigger problems in the realms than his ego.”

“Not by much,” Daianya mumbled.

****

On the other side of the hall, Loki was chatting to two men who he felt rather desperately needed a gentle push towards becoming more intimate. Loki was determined to provide that push, because he was generous like that.

He was interrupted by Odin, who came and sat down beside him before giving him a pointed look.

“What?” Loki asked.

Odin just kept looking.

“Ooookay… which one of the seven things I currently have the potential to be in trouble for have you found out about?” Loki asked.

Odin sighed heavily, “The tesseract,” he said.

“Oh that! Yes, what about it?”

“I have it.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I should not have it. It should be in the Asgardian weapons’ vault, but _someone_ took it out of there without permission,” Odin said.

“Increase your security; it was far too easily to do with no warning and stark naked,” Loki said without a trace of shame, “Why haven’t you put it back yet?”

“I want you to take me through how you got it,” Odin said, “Tonight, after the feast.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, “You want me to accompany you to the extremely private, extremely secure weapons’ vault, all alone?” he asked, giving Odin a sly smile.

Odin pressed his lips together and tried to keep from smiling, “I want to go over security, _Brother_.”

“Your father says I’m not and he’s the king, his word it law,” Loki said.

“How you can keep a straight face while saying that I will never know,” Odin said, “I am concerned with security, Loki, if you can take it then so can others.”

“Doubtful, I’m brilliant,” Loki said.

“Just show me,” Odin said.

“Oh all right, when the feast is over we shall head down into the depth of the palace, through the dimly lit corridors and into total seclusion, where I shall show you how I took it,” Loki said, “Of course, in order to ensure complete accuracy, I shall have to take my clothes off.”

Odin just shook his head as he walked away.


	49. Until Another Life

It was much later in the evening by the time Nal and Daianya headed up to bed. They had stayed as late as they could, as per Anima’s request, which had pleased King Bor who liked it when his family enjoyed the same things he did.

“See you at the top,” Daianya said, taking the first few steps up the long spiral that would eventually lead to their bedrooms.

“I’ll join you,” Nal said.

“Why? I don’t even want to join me,” Daianya said.

“I’ve been training for a year now in defensive manoeuvres,” Nal said, “and as much as it pains me to admit it, extra exercise is helpful in maintaining whatever it is I’m trying to achieve.”

“Whatever it is? You don’t know?” Daianya asked as they started to climb.

“Honestly? Not really. I started out wanting to defend myself and I think I’m good enough for the average Asgardian, but now I keep thinking about what Loki said, about how it doesn’t hurt to have every weapon at your disposal in a fight. Maybe it’s because I’m extremely tired and have had a few too many glasses of wine, but he’s starting to make sense. What if I’m attacked by a professional? Political assassinations are always a possibility.”

“A very unlikely one,” Daianya said. “For one thing, Asgard may have enemies, but it also has fantastic security both on the physical level and the magical one. Secondly, you are the third in line to the throne, unless someone wants to incite general terror, killing you does nothing to Bor’s reign or his ability to command his forces – ”

“Ouch,” Nal mumbled, “True, but ouch.”

“And finally, you are worth a lot more as a kidnapping victim than an assassination victim, although I suppose you would be harder to kidnap with some combat training, so there’s a point in your favour.”

“Oh good,” Nal panted. They had reached the second floor and she was starting to struggle. “You sound like a general when you talk like that.”

Daianya looked at her sympathetically. “You can go the rest of the way in the elevator if you want to,” she offered.

“No… I’ll… manage…” Nal said. She paused on the landing at the top of the second flight of stairs and tried to get her breath back. “I’m still wondering why Loki even told us about Hela,” she said, “I’m starting to think it was a warning.”

“A warning? We already know to avoid her as much as possible,” Daianya said.

“More than that,” Nal said, “He doesn’t want her to rule Asgard. I think he might have told us so that we could help do something about it.”

“Like what? Kill Hela? Knowing her she’d probably enjoy it,” Daianya said.

“I’m not sure exactly, but Loki cares about Asgard, for all his boastful talk and arguably clever pranks, he fights for this realm like he was born here. I think he knows having Hela is charge would be insanity, so maybe he was trying to warn us that something has to happen, and to be prepared. Certainly you should be, without Hela around you are the heir to the throne,” Nal said.

“We don’t even know for certain that she’s his,” Daianya pointed out.

“True. Even Loki doesn’t know for certain, but Grandmother will. She will have held Hela as a baby, she will be able to tell us,” Nal said, beginning to climb the next set of stairs.

“Does it matter though? If Father has accepted her?” Daianya asked.

“It matters because King Bor will think it does, and in a realm like Asgard where the king’s word is law and his power absolute, knowing something Hela doesn’t could be the key to her downfall,” Nal said.

“You sound like a king when you talk like that,” Daianya said.

“I’ve been told I have Father’s mind, but I prefer to think I have Grandmother’s,” Nal said, starting to pant again. “How many more flights?”

“Four more,” Daianya said.

Nal let out a moan of dismay.

****

Far above them, nestled in her room, Anima and Senan had finished off the dinner that had been left for them and were cuddled up together in her bed, sipping wine from a shared glass.

“I wish tonight didn’t have to end,” Anima said, placing a gentle kiss against Senan’s chest.

“Me either,” Senan said, “Although I’d miss seein’ the sun rise, but I think I’d get used to it.”

Anima raised a hand and concentrated. After thirty seconds or so a pale golden glow filled the room, bathing them both in light.

“A personal sunrise?” Senan said, “Is there anythin’ you can’t do?”

Anima let out a soft sigh, “Make you stay,” she said.

“In another life I’d be by your side in a heartbeat,” Senan said. “And we’d go travellin’ to all those worlds out there, just like you want to do.”

“And when we were done, or just fancied a rest, we’d come back to a little forest by a river and just stay for a while,” Anima said. “No grand feasts or titles, no responsibilities, just two mortals making a life together.”

“Would you have my children?” Senan asked her.

“A few, say, three or four? But not right away, we’d make sure we were thoroughly sick of travelling first,” Anima said. “Would you teach them to hunt and use a sword?”

“I don’t even know how to use a sword, other than grabbin’ it at the blunt end and swingin’ the sharp end at the other guy,” Senan said, making her giggle, “But I’d do my best, certainly.”

“I’ll teach them how to use magic,” Anima said. “And one of us is going to have to learn how to grow potatoes.”

It was Senan’s turn to laugh. “Can’t live without them now can we?” he said, pulling her closer.

“No,” Anima said. “In our other life we will have them every day, fried in oil, baked in fire, mashed with butter and a little cheese.”

“You’re goin’ to make me hungry,” Senan said, “And we already ate everythin’ on your plate.”

“Well it was only meant for one,” Anima said.

“Are you sure? I’ve never seen a platter so laden,” Senan said. “This place is luxury beyond anythin’ I ever saw. Even the king’s fort back home is nothin’ like this. His place would make a very fine stable or somethin’, I reckon.”

“The servants always put more than enough for one, no one wants to be accused of being skimpy by an agitated noble,” Anima said.

There was a faint noise from outside as Daianya and Nal reached the landing and went their separate ways.

“It’s late,” Senan said. “What time do you have to sneak me back to where you came and got me?”

Anima sighed. “Before sunrise, because they’ll be waking everyone up to send them home just afterwards,” she said sadly.

“That’s not for a few more hours then,” Senan said. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

“In another life, would you kiss me like that always?” Anima asked him.

“I would, yeah,” he replied.

“Would you kiss my neck?”

“I would,” he said and obliged.

“Would you kiss my breasts?”

“I would.”

“Would you kiss my stomach?”

“I would.”

“Would you kiss my thighs?”

“Right here on the inside, yes.”

“Would you kiss - ?”

****

Odin entered the weapons’ vault and nodded to the guards inside. He walked quickly to where Mjolnir sat and pretended to be inspecting it.

Loki had told him when to watch the door, and a few minutes later when the guard left the room to do a circuit of the outer chamber, Odin made sure he watched the entrance carefully.

Even knowing Loki was slipping inside, Odin still struggled to see him. Something almost, but not quite like a shadow seemed to flit through the air to the left of the door but it was gone again before Odin could follow it.

He waited in the dim lighting, listening for the sound of movement, the sight of shifting shadows, anything that would give away Loki’s position.

Nothing. Nothing at all until suddenly Loki appeared, right by the tesseract. He made eye-contact with Odin as he switched the real thing with the fake which had been sitting on the plinth for the last few days, then he vanished again.

Odin walked slowly to the door and out again. He felt the slightest of drafts against the back of his neck as he passed through.

Odin walked out of the chamber and into the corridor beyond. Loki was waiting for him.

“See what you wanted to?” Loki asked him.

“No, I didn’t, which is disturbing. I had no idea you were that good of a thief,” Odin said.

“Well the weapons’ vault is kept in semi-darkness at all times, which is great for atmosphere but _terrible_ for security,” Loki said. “You might want to look into that.”

“The light level is because some of the weapons in there are charged by the presence of light,” Odin said. “It’s better not to have them sitting there fully powered up where they can be immediately used if someone grabs them. At least if a thief does get in they have to take those weapons through the palace to the outside before they can use them fully.”

“Put them in another vault?” Loki suggested. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I am the God of Thievery, no matter what you do I will still get in.”

Odin sighed heavily. “I wish you’d be the God of Security and help me with this,” he said.

Loki leaned against the wall and regarded him. “I’m trying to help you, Brother, just not with this. This is nothing compared to what you are trying to achieve.”

Odin frowned in confusion. “What am I trying to achieve?” he asked.

“Hela,” Loki said.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Odin said, walking away.

“She’s not going to change, Brother, if she ever was the window is long past! She was thrown into a war and surrounded with death, she will not learn what you are trying to teach her,” Loki urged.

“She is my daughter, and the future queen of Asgard,” Odin said, “Father’s already at me to have a son so that he can replace her without having to mess about with the law, I don’t need you disparaging her in my ear as well.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Bor wants you to have a son? Specifically to disinherit Hela? I mean, it’s not a foolproof plan but it’s better than anything I thought he’d come up with.”

Odin stopped walking and glared at Loki, who did not back down.

“You know she’s not quite right,” Loki said, “Don’t think I do not care about her because of this, I care about all my – ”

“ _My_ daughter has a lot of time to learn still,” Odin said. “I took over her tutelage myself for this very reason, and she’s been doing a lot better since I did. There are millennia to go before she becomes queen and I am in no rush to throw her away before then!”

“It may be millennia before she’s queen but I doubt it will be that long before you have to make the choice to disinherit her,” Loki said. “Her nature is violent and cruel, and she may be saying the right things but she’s not thinking them. I hope I am wrong, Brother, but I don’t think I am. You need to look to your other children, to teach and protect them, because if Hela does embrace her nature fully then she will not spare them for the love of family.”

Odin took a slow breath and started walking again. “I appreciate that you want to warn me,” he said. “But I am not afraid of facing hard challenges.”

“Funny, the last time you said that to me you were two inches away from my – ”

“Good _night_ Loki.”

****

The following morning, just before sunrise, Anima snuck Senan back downstairs and into the healers’ rooms. He lay down on the bed and watched as she picked up the sleeping crystal.

“Thank you for givin’ me a day and a night by your side,” he said with a bittersweet look on his face. He pulled at the tooth on its leather band as if to take it off. “Here,” he said, “you should have it back.”

“No,” Anima said. “Keep it. If you ever get into trouble again I want to know. Just because I can’t spend my life by your side doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear from you, or want you to be unsafe.”

He tucked it away again and nodded. “I’ll wear it always, and cherish it as your gift.”

“I’ll miss seeing you,” Anima said with tears in her eyes.

He reached up and brushed the first tear to fall away with his hand. “Until another life, my Fairy Princess,” he said.

“Until another life,” Anima said, passing the crystal over his head.

His eyes closed and he slumped back against the pillows. Anima reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead. She wished she could go – and surely if she ran King Bor wouldn’t care _that much_ about her that he would force her to come back – but every time she imagined herself going to Midgard she would feel a strong urge to stay where she was. 

It had to be her family. She didn’t want to leave them anymore than Senan wanted to leave his sister or nephew. If only King Bor would allow her to come and go as she pleased… but she already knew he wouldn’t. She had disobeyed his will by going to Midgard at all, and King Bor was the kind of man who saw a challenge to his will, not as a chance to soften his stance and change his mind, but as a direct insult to him personally.

For all that Odin said that King Bor was impressed by Anima standing up to him, that wasn’t enough to make him back down.

She slipped away from the healers’ rooms a few minutes before they entered the room and started waking people up. 

An hour later, Anima watched from the window of the tower as the crowd of mortals were escorted down the length of the Bifrost and sent home, healthy and well. Her eyes were filled with tears, but her face was resolute. She had made her choice, and she would accept it, and all the consequences that came from it.

A flash of light indicated that the Bifrost had been activated, and Anima turned away from the window. She had been fortunate to have a little time all to herself, but now that was over, and it was time to think of other things.

Time to join her sisters in visiting their grandmother.

****

The three of them met at the entrance to Bestla’s rooms without a word. Nal led the way inside with a knock. She and Daianya made their way to the reflecting pool as Anima grabbed the long coat of Drapht fur that she always wore in the cold of Bestla’s rooms and hurried after them.

Bestla was already sitting there, resting against some overlarge cushions. She smiled as she saw them approach.

“My darling girls, how nice to see you all together,” she said.

“Are you well, Grandmother?” Nal asked her, kneeling by her side.

“I am well enough, my dear, just a few aches and pains, nothing new,” Bestla said. “I understand the mortals left this morning, Anima, are you alright?”

Anima gave her a sad smile. “I will be, eventually,” she said.

“I heard about how you saved them all, that was very noble and very brave,” Bestla said.

“They didn’t deserve to die,” Anima said.

“And the young man? Was he all that you hoped for?” Bestla asked.

Anima blushed like one of her magical sunrises as Daianya and Nal turned to look at their grandmother in shock.

“How did you know?” Anima squeaked.

“I visited the healers’ rooms for some relief from my aches and while I was there Healer Marfra told me that you would not leave the side of one rather nice looking young man in particular. I would have thought it quite sweet and nothing more until I saw that same young man dressed in different clothes escorting you through the palace just after sunset. After you missed the feast, well, I suppose I assumed the rest, but tell me, did you at least enjoy yourself?”

Anima looked down at her lap. “Yes,” she mumbled.

“Good. All that risk would have been quite annoying had it not proved worth it in the end. Did you use protection? I understand mortals are like Asgardians in that regard.”

“Yes,” Anima mumbled again.

Bestla smiled at her gently. “I’m sorry, my dear, I did not mean to embarrass you. I suppose Jotnir do not think of intimacy in the same way, or with the same sense of privacy. Do you intend to see him again?”

“I can’t,” Anima said. “He has a duty to his people on Midgard, and I have to stay here on Asgard.”

“Why? Other than my husband’s displeasure, why can you not go?”

“Because I want to come back,” Anima said. “It’s easy to weather someone’s displeasure at a distance, not so much when he controls if you’ll ever see the people and things you love ever again.”

Bestla nodded slowly. “Maybe one day when Odin is king you can go then,” she said.

Anima did not remind her grandmother that her mortal body would be long dead by the time Odin took the throne of Asgard. Everyone around her was so long lived that they regularly forgot that she would be gone in the blink of an eye.

“Grandmother,” Nal said, pulling everyone’s attention from Anima’s love life, “Loki told us something alarming, and we would like to know if it is true.”

“If it is alarming then it almost certainly is, coming from him,” Bestla said.

“It’s about Hela,” Daianya said.

“Oh,” Bestla said, more softly and more seriously.

“Yes. Oh.” Nal said. “Is it true? Is she not father’s daughter?”

“Hela is your father’s daughter,” Bestla said.

Daianya frowned. “Loki was pretty sure she wasn’t.”

“She is.”

Nal stopped and thought for a second. “Is she a child of his body, or a child of his choosing?” she asked.

Bestla smiled. “You are clever, my dear. Hela is a child of Odin’s choosing, and a child of Helda’s body.”

“And Loki’s?” Nal asked.

“Perhaps, if he is the only candidate,” Bestla said.

“You read Hela’s life-code, so you must know half of Loki’s,” Nal said, her eyes lighting up.

“You would think that, and I _did_ think that, once,” Bestla said. “But I have examined each of his children, the wolf, the snake, the horse, and yes, Hela. Each one is so different from the others that I cannot tell you which part of them came from him.”

“Loki said he thought you knew Hela wasn’t Father’s _before_ you read her code,” Anima said.

Bestla looked from one granddaughter to another, before her eyes came to rest on Nal. “I have other ways of knowing things,” she said. “And Loki is a perceptive man.”

“So if Father chose to accept her, then she is his eldest by law,” Nal said.

“She is.”

“So what does Loki want us to do? Why did he tell us this?” Daianya asked. 

Anima shrugged in uncertainty, but Nal looked thoughtful.

“If he changes the law to state that only the firstborn child of Odin’s body can be his heir, then Hela would be disinherited in favour of Daianya without things getting messy the way they would if the heir was chosen by the last king,” she said.

“I’d be careful with that idea,” Bestla said. “Such a law would require your life-codes to be read by a spell, and people don’t always like what they find out.”

“Please don’t tell us Mother went to bed with Loki too,” Anima asked.

“No. She was devoted to your father,” Bestla said. “But I would still council against making any kind of plans with what you have been told. Bor rules this realm and Odin after him. It is not Loki’s place to disrupt the lines of succession, if it is to be done, they will do it without his interference. In fact, I would place a real wager on his telling you for a different reason entirely.”

“Such as?” Nal asked.

“Well, he has rather cleverly deflected you from seeking his life-code, warned Daianya to prepare herself for queendom, and distracted Anima from her recent loss all at the same time,” Bestla pointed out. “Leave Hela be, my darlings, she has her own burdens to bear and it is not your place to add to them.”

“Do you feel well enough to tell us a story, Grandmother?” Anima asked.

Bestla smiled and straightened up. “Will one of you fetch us some wine?” she asked, “I will tell you the story of the two secret lovers of the mountains of Isamel.”

 _I wonder what Hela’s burdens are?_ Daianya thought as she rose to fetch the wine.

 _I wonder how Grandmother could tell she wasn’t Father’s before reading her code?_ Nal added.


	50. To Cry Is To Bleed

**Seven years until the Convergence**

King Grundroth of Jotunheim sat on a purpose-grown throne inside the structure which sat just outside the entrance to the Cave of Kings, and watched as the three young men approached. They called the structure a temple, although in service to what kind of worship they didn’t really know. They were all sons of Morath, some of her last children, and each one fit and strong and determined to succeed.

Grundroth remembered being that young and determined. He had arrived at King Krognir’s court a few decades after Hailstrum, who had taken Grundroth under his wing almost from the first day. Grundroth could still remember the day Hailstrum had tried the cave, disappearing for almost a full day before stumbling out and creating two giant, almost invisible, ice spikes in the blink of an eye to show that he had succeeded in conquering the Cave.

Hailstrum had then begun teaching his friend and protégé the skills he would need to conquer the Cave himself, only letting him try when he was sure that Grundroth would succeed, and so they had become the two heirs of Krognir.

Grundroth had been happy to let Hailstrum take the crown when the time came. He had earned it without any help and so Grundroth had refused to challenge him.

Jotun tradition stated that anyone could try the Cave of Kings at any time, as a successful venture would be evident by their new ability to shape ice with a speed and precision which could not be matched by any ordinary Jotun, however it was generally considered the custom for the king to see them off on their challenge if they took the courtesy to tell him about it.

The three of them stood before him. Two of them looked nervous, one looked confident – too confident – Grundroth decided. He would not survive.

“The three of you wish you challenge the Cave of Kings?” he asked.

They nodded; the cocky one folded his arms.

“And who stands before me, wishing to become my heir?” Grundroth asked.

“Tirnir, Son of Morath,” said the confident one.

“Pyrir, Son of Morath,” said the second.

“Laufey, Son of Morath,” said the third, and the clear youngest.

Grundroth reached out and rested his hand against the ice. His power travelled through it, glowing with an eerie light as it flowed through the ice of the throne, along the ground and up to the sheer wall of the temple behind him.

Carved into the ice were the names of every man who ever entered the Cave of Kings. Next to each name was a word: Waiting, Dead, or King.

The names of the three men appeared one after the other, with the word ‘waiting’ written next to them. Grundroth withdrew his hand from the ice and spoke.

“I wish you luck. Take nothing but the clothes you wear and a stone carved with your name, and be sure to follow the Cave until the end, where you will gain the power of kingship among the cold and the darkness. Upon your return I charge you to collect the naming stones of any fallen men you encounter down in the cave so that we may know never to wait for them again. Their bodies are to be left as a warning as to the dangers of ambition without caution.”

They nodded seriously.

“Now go, if that is what you wish,” Grundroth said.

The cocky one immediately turned and left the temple to enter the Cave, striding forwards and disappearing without looking back. The other two followed him more hesitantly. Grundroth waited an acceptable amount of time before rising and leaving to return to the palace. It took almost a full day to reach the end of the cave and return, assuming that they made it that far. The watchers on duty would alert him to any returns, successful or otherwise.

****  
Daianya dragged her feet on the way to the training yard. She had another session with Tyr, and she really, really, _really_ didn’t want to go.

Ever since she’d defended him from Hela he had gone from standoffish, to surly, to almost outright hostile. He fought at full strength against the other trainees – which he was technically supposed to do – but he had to be pulled away from them when they yielded, almost as if he wanted not just to defeat them but to _beat_ them, both figuratively and literally.

More and more Daianya had been forced to intervene when he went too far. So far he had backed down when she confronted him, but it was obvious to everyone present that it was only a matter of time before he pushed his luck.

He had also begun spouting nonsense about ‘women warriors’, little jabs at first, but again with time they had become more and more pointed and hostile. In the last session, after knocking Tarah to her knees, he had said outright that in a perfect realm that’s where she belonged.

All four of the trainees had started yelling at him, but he had just stood there with a smug grin on his face, amused that he had upset them. Daianya had left the yard furious and frustrated, wishing that she could pound him into the dirt. She had reported him instead to General Solveig, as had the other trainees, but he hadn’t changed his attitude the next time they had met up for training.

Daianya took a slow breath and made herself calm down as she entered the yard. Being a warrior took more than the ability to hit people very hard, being a future general _definitely_ did.

Tyr was warming up under the intense stared of annoyance and outright dislike of the other trainees.

“Good afternoon,” he said, “Glad you could join us, I was just thinking of how much fun we’re going to have.”

Daianya gave him a nod but didn’t speak; she didn’t have anything to say that wasn’t straight up rude.

She started her warm ups and did her best to ignore him.

“There’s fresh dirt on the ground,” Tyr said, “Too much spit in the old stuff, too many women hitting it face first.”

“Wish Hela had killed him,” muttered Tarah to Hildra.

Daianya didn’t comment. Normally she would try to nip talk like that in the bud but she really didn’t want to right now.

Tyr finished up his stretches and grinned. “Who’s going first?” he asked, eyeing them one by one.

Nobody stepped forwards. Tyr was a very good fighter and he had both height and strength advantage. He never lost to anyone but Daianya, and the other trainees weren’t keen on having their twice-weekly dose of defeat.

“I’ll go,” Daianya said. She usually volunteered in the hopes that she could tire him out a bit before he fought the others.

He grabbed his sword and his demeanour immediately became serious. Unlike the others, Daianya resented an actual challenge.

They circled each other slowly, both watching for a sign of weakness or an opening in the other one’s defences. Daianya could see Tyr’s soul inside of him; it was looking at her as intensely as his physical body. But then it suddenly made a move to the left, just as Tyr made a feint to the right.

Daianya raised her guard with one sword and caught his as he brought it down, then she swung in and slashed at his side with her other, leaving a mark on the protective padding.

Tyr growled in annoyance and swung his sword at her head. Daianya ducked even as she heard the shouts of protest from the other trainees. Tyr had been marked, the match was over – and quickly too – which was what Daianya knew the problem was. Tyr swung again and again, the anger on his face quickly becoming fury as Daianya continued to dodge each swing.

“Do we have to fetch General Hymir?” yelled Tarah.

Tyr turned and glared at her. “Run away and cry? Sure, that’s all you are good for!” and he lunged again at Daianya, who caught his sword and spun it with hers, forcing it from his hand and into the dirt. Tyr let out another growl and threw himself at her. Daianya raised her sword and held it straight out in front of her. Tyr pulled back and skidded to a halt just before he impaled himself.

“You know better than to charge unarmed at an opponent with a blade,” Daianya said. “So as far as I can tell, you were relying on me not wanting to kill you, well I can tell you with utmost certainly, Tyr, that right now that is not a fact you can rely on!”

He glared at her in pure hatred. “You are nothing!” he spat. “The Valkyrie are _nothing_ compared to the army! All you are is a… a… a _hobby_!”

He turned and stormed away, kicking up dirt as he went.

“He’s the most immature, hateful, little boy I’ve ever met,” Aeriada said into the silence.

“He lost to Hela and had to be saved by Daianya,” Tarah said. “He’s never gotten over it.”

“I don’t want to train with him anymore,” Hildra added. “He only wants to hurt us.”

“He will be sent back by his father,” Daianya said. “This training is too important to General Hymir. He wants his son to learn how to fight in many different ways, but instead of trying to learn Tyr keeps doing the same old thing and getting mad when he loses.”

“He doesn’t lose to us,” Tarah said, a little bitterly.

“He will,” Daianya said. “You are getting better every time you fight him, you all work at it, and speed and skill earned through constant practice are far better than natural talent. His anger has been growing with every session because you three keep coming closer to beating him and he knows it.”

“If we live long enough,” Hildra said. “I swear he is tipping over the edge from training to murder.”

“Maybe we can invite a few witnesses to our training sessions,” Daianya suggested. “On the one hand, an audience to defeat is a rough thing for us to deal with, but on the other it may be the reminder he needs to keep his head.”

“Only if it’s someone of sufficient authority,” Tarah said.

Daianya raised an eyebrow. “I may be able to help with that,” she said.

****

Nal was in the water garden, tending to the lilies, when she saw her grandmother walk slowly under the shaded walk and sit down by the babbling brook.

Nal rose and walked over to her. Bestla rarely came out into the sunlight; the light on Jotunheim was always dim and tinted with blue from the reflection of the ice, and Bestla struggled with the bright, harsh whites and yellows of the Asgardian sun.

“Grandmother? Are you alright?” Nal asked, approaching her from behind.

“Oh yes dear, I’m alright,” Bestla said, but her tone was sad. “I’ve just gotten some news about an old friend who has died and I did not want to be alone in my rooms. This brook makes such a lovely sound as it flows.”

Nal sat down beside her and gave a little gasp. For a moment she thought Bestla had been horribly slashed on her face, but then she realised that her grandmother had painted two red lines down her cheeks from her eyes to her jaw.

“Is that…? Um…” Nal struggled to ask the question.

“It is mourning paint, my dear. Jotun do not cry except in exceptional circumstances, so we mark our faces with the trail of our unfallen tears,” Bestla said. 

“I didn’t think Jotun could cry at all,” Nal said softly, leaning against her grandmother to provide comfort.

“Oh they _can_ but most never do. We are so frozen that the tears cannot leave the ducts except under great pressure. They tear the flesh and fill with blood, which then fall as jewels to the ground. To cry is to bleed, my darling child, and to suffer such pain on the outside requires suffering even more on the inside. Most Jotun cry only when their mother dies, for only her loss can bring such grief,” Bestla said.

“So the red represents the blood of your tears?” Nal asked.

“She was my friend, and I will miss her very much,” Bestla said. “I wish I could cry for her, and yes, the red of the mourning paint is to show to all who see it how much I am suffering for her loss.”

“I’ve heard of Jotun tears before,” Nal said. “Anima mentioned them in one of her spell books. She said they could be used to hold powerful workings, but I thought they were just a type of gem.”

“Blood magic is one of the most powerful of all the magical types,” Bestla said. “I believe most people think they are gems, unless they are Jotun or a powerful mage like Anima – tell me dear, is she still talking to that mortal boy of hers?”

“Not really, they talk every so often but I think they are trying to move on from one another,” Nal said. “She’s been throwing herself into a new type of healing magic instead, something about regenerating cells that are already there? I don’t really understand it but she said it might be the key to… something, I’m not sure what. Can I do anything for you? Can I fetch you wine or something else?”

“No dear, the babble of this brook you crafted is soothing enough,” Bestla said. “I should so dearly like to go and see my friend laid to rest at the mountain glacier, but that is not possible, so I shall mourn her here, surrounded by the peace you have created.”

Nal gave her another hug.

****

King Grundroth was just about to eat lunch when the messenger came in.

“A return,” he said, “from the Cave of Kings.”

Grundroth put down his fork and rose from the table, “Has he displayed the signs of kingship?” he asked as he walked past the messenger on his way out of the castle.

“No, my King, I do not believe he has succeeded, but he has brought back three naming stones,” the messenger said.

Grundroth nodded and kept walking.

He rode on the back of a Grur beast to the Cave of Kings, where the returned man was being given warm drinks by the guards of the temple, who had been on watch waiting for the return of the three challengers. The man saw Grundroth approach and bowed deeply, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep his balance.

“Laufey, wasn’t it?” Grundroth asked him.

“Yes my King, Laufey, Son of Morath,” said Laufey. 

“And do I call you my heir?” Grundroth asked him.

Laufey shook his head, “I did not reach the end of the Cave, I do not have the gift of Kingship,” he said, “And I carry with me the naming stone of my brother, Tirnir.”

Tirnir had been the hasty one, and the one Grundroth had assumed would perish. Patience was a key part of conquering the Cave, as he knew all too well.

“And who else?” Grundroth asked, placing his hand on the ice.

The word ‘Waiting’ by Tirnir’s name was replaced with ‘Dead’.

Laufey held up the stones, “I found them in a crevice some way down where I stopped for shelter from the cold,” he said, “I realised as I stood there that they had done the same thing, it was then I decided that I must return. I am not meant to be king.”

Grundroth read the names on the stones. It took him a few minutes to find each one on the wall; both were from a long time before he had been born.

“The crevice you mention must be off the main path,” he said, changing the word by each of their names to ‘Dead’.

“It was, I thought it might be warmer because it was more sheltered,” Laufey said, “But instead all I found was a tomb. Tirnir… Tirnir fell before me. I stumbled over him on my way down, and took his naming stone on my way back. Pyrir went on ahead of me after a while, I hope he returns soon.”

Grundroth bowed his head in sympathy. Losing a brother was not easy, and knowing a second one might fall – or had already fallen – was even worse.

“If he is sensible he will return, either a king or not,” he said.

Laufey just looked sad, “He’s more patient than Tirnir, but no less stubborn,” he said.

“Patience may be enough,” Grundroth said, “Now come back to the city and re-join your brothers there. The Cave of Kings will be conquered one day, perhaps even by yourself if you ever wish to try again.”

Laufey looked back towards the entrance with a hard expression, “Perhaps,” he said softly, “but I doubt it.”

****

Tyr walked back into the training yard a few days after his outburst and stopped in his tracks. He looked around in confusion at the stands surrounding the circle of combat.

“What are all these people doing here?” he asked.

“I invited them to watch us train,” Daianya said. “It turns out that a lot of people are really interested in seeing how I am progressing with my training, and so I told them they could come and see.”

Tyr scowled at the crowd, only to suddenly straighten his face at the sight of King Bor sitting underneath one of the shade cloths.

“My grandfather was particularly interested in seeing my progress,” Daianya said, “and those of the other trainees. Of course we don’t expect you to go easy on us, but any nasty displays of temper, or failing to stop once victory has been declared and you will find yourself rather disliked by a large number of members of the court, people your father must sit and speak with regularly.”

Tyr looked like he wanted to start screaming, but he managed to hold his temper.

“An underhanded women trick,” he said.

“Putting your actions on display so that you can’t hide them? Does that mean being violent and shifty is the trait of a man? No, Tyr, you brought this on yourself. I intend to keep the invitation open from now on, so you had better learn to behave,” Daianya said.

“This is a novelty, it will wear off,” Tyr said, heading further into the yard.

“Not for a very long while,” Daianya said. “Long enough I hope for you to learn some self-control.”

Bor was beaming down at them. When Daianya had suggested to him that he might like to watch her progress he had been thrilled. 

“At least one of Odin’s children is a real warrior,” he had said. 

“Actually, Nal sent you a petition asking if you would consent to her learning to fight in the Vanir way, because she prefers wearing skirts and their fighting is more suited toward that sort of thing,” Daianya had interjected hastily.

“She did? I’ll have to find it. I didn’t know she had any interest in fighting. She doesn’t want to join the Valkyrie too, does she?”

“No, but she wants to learn how to handle herself,” Daianya had said.

Bor had grinned then and turned to his secretary. “Find me that petition, maybe one day I will be able to see two of Odin’s children show off their skills.”

Now he sat watching, his mind filled with cheerful thoughts of powerful grandchildren, and waited for Tyr and Daianya to begin.

They picked up their weapons and faced one another. Tyr looked stern and stiff. Daianya stayed calmer and more focussed.

To his credit, Tyr did not immediately lash out the way he had been doing. As Daianya had predicted, the presence of the crowd caused him to fall back on his training, and the match was far more even as a result. 

She still beat him though, and it was clear from the look on his face that he was upset about it, but there was nothing he could do as the crowd roared its approval. 

He won against the other three, but Tarah got in a few close slashes that made the crowd lean forward in anticipation and delight. Bor watched with a shrewd and steady gaze, and nodded his approval to Tarah when the match was over.

He rose after the last bout and gave each of them a nod.

“Well done,” he said. “I look forward to the next one. Maybe we can make this a more regular thing among the other levels of the army and Valkyrie.”

With that he left the yard, followed by the rest of the crowd. Tyr waited until they were alone before throwing his weapons down in a huff and storming off. Daianya turned to the other trainees. “Success?” she asked.

“It’ll do for now,” Tarah said as Hildra and Aeriada nodded.


	51. A Flower In Bloom

**Six years until the Convergence**

Daianya watched with a carefully neutral expression as Tyr was thrown over Tarah’s shoulder and slammed into the ground. There was an ‘oooh’ from the crowd. 

In the year since spectators had been invited to watch the training sessions the three other trainees had steadily improved to the point that they were starting to give Tyr a real challenge. Tyr, by contrast, did not seem to alter his tactics or fighting style at all.

He scrambled to his feet and launched himself at her. Daianya held her breath in anticipation, but she needn’t have bothered. Tarah spun and flipped him again, slamming him right back down into the dirt. The crowd began to giggle in response.

Tyr scrambled up again and let out a yell of anger as he charged her again. Tarah stood her ground, and Daianya began to grin.

Today was the day.

For the third time Tyr went flying, this time Tarah followed through once he hit the dirt, swinging her sword around and holding it against his neck.

Tyr froze, unable to move without injury. The crowd began to cheer their approval as Tarah stepped back, the clear victor.

Daianya glanced upward at where King Bor and Odin were sitting side by side. They didn’t watch every match, but they did attend enough of them that Tyr was unable to lash out at his slow march towards defeat.

It was only then that she noticed General Hymir sitting behind them. His face was a mask of seriousness.

Daianya looked back at Tyr to see if he’d spotted his father in the crowd. He hadn’t appeared to, and climbed to his feet with his anger clearly on his face.

Daianya was his last bout, before some more trainees would take the field – a suggestion of King Bor’s – so that the people of Asgard could watch their warriors in action.

Tyr took a long drink of water and grabbed his swords with a rough hand. Daianya murmured congratulations to Tarah as she came back to the seats at the side of the yard.

“Watch out, he’s furious now,” she said. 

“I’ll be alright,” Daianya said. “I hope he will be though, his father is here.”

“Oh shit,” Hildra said. “Does he look mad?”

“No,” Daianya said. “He looks as stoic as always.”

She picked up her weapons and entered the ring. Tyr was waiting for her.

“I’m going to take you down,” he said.

“I doubt it,” Daianya said. “You’re throwing yourself around like a junior. You’ve got the skills, Tyr, I suggest you use them.”

His eyes narrowed and he began to circle around her. “You don’t know what you are talking about,” he said.

Daianya kept her eyes on him as he moved. She turned in place but didn’t try to circle him, instead waiting for him to come to her.

“You women should stay in the home where you belong,” Tyr said, and swung at her.

Daianya deflected it without trying. “You’ve been spending too much time with your friends from the noble families,” she said. “Drow Eblinsson, Tifer Koblowsson and Renda Catrensson. They like to talk nonsense about the roles of women and men but they’ve never so much as stepped into a training ring. You should know better than to listen to them. You’ve _seen_ better.”

“I know you are only able to beat me because you cheat,” Tyr spat. “You use your god power to see my movements.”

“Do you think the Kronans cheat when they pick up rocks that can crush you?” Daianya asked.

“Kronan warriors are all men. _They_ know the best place for a woman is in the home by the hearth, making their man dinner,” Tyr said.

Daianya dearly wished that the sound of talking carried as far as the stands where the crowd sat, but she knew it did not.

“Say that to me in front of your father,” she challenged instead. “Say it in front of _my_ father.”

Tyr lunged at her, trying to strike while she was distracted, but she spun around and he tumbled past her without getting a hit.

“You’d be pretty if you wore a dress,” he said, raising his swords again.

“So would you,” Daianya said back calmly.

His face turned an ugly shade of red. “Bitch,” he hissed.

“If that’s what it takes to win,” Daianya said, waiting.

He came at her, slashing wildly, trying to use a combination of speed and strength to cut through her defence. She didn’t bother to try and block – the swords were being swung to fast – but she dodged each strike like a boxer, ducking down low and to the side to avoid him. Tyr kept coming, kept swinging, kept pushing forwards. But with each pass he was slowly down. Such a wild display used energy and he was growing tired.

Daianya waited until his swings began to grow clumsy, then she darted in and slashed the strap of his armour at the shoulder. It fell down off his arm and the weight of it began pulling at the remaining strap.

Tyr slashed at her again. Daianya kept calm, kept waiting until another opening presented itself, at which point she slashed the other strap, leaving Tyr’s breastplate to be held on his body only at the waist. The weight of the plates caused them to immediately fall away from his body until they hung down against his highs, slapping at them with every movement.

Tyr charged at her, and Daianya jumped into the air. The crowd let out a gasp of excitement and delight as she somersaulted over his head and slashed him clean across the back, leaving a thick dye mark which would almost certainly become a bruise underneath. The crowd broke into cheers as Tyr whirled and glared at her, as though he wanted to charge her again.

“You’re just a girl playing at warriors,” he said. “If you weren’t a goddess you would never have beaten me.”

“Tarah literally beat you just before I did,” Daianya said flatly.

“So I was tired,” Tyr said.

“Grow up,” Daianya said and walked away from him.

She was met at the edge of the yard by Odin, General Hymir, and Hela.

“Well done,” Odin said. “You’ve come such a long way.”

“Indeed,” General Hymir added. “I expect General Solveig to transition you to a fully Valkyrie very soon, which is amazing progress for someone who only began her training, what was it? Ten years ago?”

“Nine, General,” Daianya said, smiling with the praise.

“Only nine years? Even if you trained for another nine you would still be the fastest graduate we have ever seen.”

“That’s only because she ages at a mortal rate,” Hela interjected. “Her body will start to break down into old age any day now.”

“Hela, be proud of your sister’s accomplishments,” Odin chided as Daianya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“It’s true though, even if the scholars are right and she ages backwards again in a century or so, _for now_ she’s going to be too old to fight in, what, twenty years?” Hela said.

“Actually, I’d swear you were looking younger than you used to,” Odin said, scrutinising Daianya’s face with a puzzled frown.

“You should really talk to Anima about that, Father,” Daianya said as Hela began staring at her closely, trying to see what Odin did. “She said she adapted a rejuvenation spell she found to help keep her from growing old. All I know is my knees don’t ache at the end of the day like they were starting to.”

“Anima solved her own aging problem?” Odin said. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“You’ve been very busy teaching Hela and me all about realm management,” Daianya said. “And I know she hasn’t perfected it yet. She said she wants to figure out a way to embed it within her, rather than cast it over and over the way she is now. Maybe she wanted to wait until she was done before she showed you.”

****

“Show me,” Loki said, eyes sparkling with delight as he sat on a stone wall in the rose garden.

Anima stood before him on the lawn and twisted her fingers in a complex pattern in the air, back and forth like she was knitting an invisible scarf with her fingers. There was a flash of light which travelled back and washed over her whole body.

“You see the spell the healer’s use is to restore sickly organs and weakened flesh,” she said. “But I’ve adapted it to include healthy flesh that is just… aged. The life-code gets restored, the collagen and other important components are re-added, and the whole effect is to turn back the aging process and leave the user feeling at their absolute best!”

“That’s amazing,” Loki said. “The only thing I know of that can restore someone’s youth was Idunn’s apples. You’ve managed to adapt that spell to mimic the effect. That’s brilliant!”

Anima grinned. At twenty-nine she was hardly an old woman – far from it – but the faint lines in her skin which had begun forming in the creases of her eyes had vanished, and the two grey hairs she had been meticulously tucking under her brown ones had changed back their colour to blend in with their neighbours. She felt better too, lighter and less achy – not that she’d felt _achy_ before exactly – it was more like the lifting of a whole-body weight that had been too subtle to feel until it was gone. Age, it seemed, crept up on you.

“You see, what I want to do is create a way to make the spell a permanent part of me,” she said. “If I can do that then I will never need to recast it, it’ll always just keep me like this–” she twirled around for emphasis “–for the rest of my life.”

Loki nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of a recasting spell that doesn’t require an anchor though,” he said.

“I was thinking of using my mother’s pendant,” Anima said. “It has three emeralds in it; I already use one to talk to… Senan – but the others aren’t doing anything!”

“You still talk to him?” Loki asked.

“Only very occasionally now,” Anima said. “He’s… he’s getting married soon.”

Loki scowled. “Traitor,” he muttered.

“He’s not,” Anima said sadly. “We agreed we couldn’t be together, that means he free to move on, as am I, and after they made him their king he really did need to find a woman to be his queen.”

“He’s a king?” Loki asked. “He’s probably the least king-like man I ever laid eyes on. He’ll be great at it.”

“He said everyone just kind of agreed to make him king because he had the favour of a fairy princess,” Anima said. “He didn’t want the job.”

Loki nodded approvingly. “No one should want to be king,” he said. “Or if they do it should be for the right reasons. You need patience, understanding, patience, good management skills, patience, and an ability to command respect in order to be a good king.”

“You said patience three times,” Anima said.

“I know what I said and I stand by it,” Loki said. “I thought you looked a little down, that’s why I came to find you. I’m sorry to hear he’s moving on.”

“It’s been two years, it’s not like he just dove into it,” Anima said. “And it’s not like I wanted him on Midgard pining over me.”

“Why not? You’re the kind of woman who men should be pining over,” Loki said.

Anima gave him a sad smile in response. “I want him to be happy,” she said.

“He has a much greater chance of finding someone over there than you do here,” Loki said. “It’s not too late to go.”

Anima shook her head. “I know that, but I can’t. I wish I could explain it to you, but every time I imagine myself there with him something calls me back here. I can’t leave Asgard, so instead I shall plan to be a scholar, and write scrolls and scrolls filled with new and exciting ways to use spells,” Anima said.

“You feel called to Asgard?” Loki asked. “That’s an unusual thing to find in a mortal, but not in a god.”

Anima rolled her eyes. “Stop it. I am mortal, I will always be mortal, I am not a god, I am a researcher and a historian.”

“A historian too? Since when did you take up the hobby?” Loki asked her.

“Since Senan said he was getting married,” Anima admitted. “I wanted something to occupy my mind, and I’ve always been curious about Asgard’s origins, so I’ve been spending the last few weeks finding everything I could on its history and creation. I want to know all there is to know about the parasite.”

“A _what?_ ” Loki exclaimed.

“A parasite,” Anima said. “Bragi told me about it before he died, all the way back at my coming of age feast. Father said the scholars have studied the underside of Asgard and that they believe something terrible happened to it to destroy it, only Yggdrasil managed to save what was left. That’s why Asgard is so small, and why gravity still works anyway. The magic of Yggdrasil keeps the remnants of the damaged realm alive.”

“No,” Loki said.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Anima asked. “You can’t hear about thousands of years of careful study and speculation and just say ‘no’.”

“I can and I will. A parasite? Really? That may be what the scholars of Asgard think, but they, like many, forget that they are not the only ones with stories and sagas that tell the history of Yggdrasil,” Loki said as Anima came to sit beside him on the stone wall. “And perhaps most importantly of all, the other nine realms _are_ older, and so is their history, and they tell a different story. Asgard is younger than the others but it was always meant to be. Asgard is exactly as Yggdrasil intended.”

“What is it meant to be then? Because when I was younger they told me Ragnarok was the end of _everything_ , and then Bragi told me that Asgard was a parasite and that Ragnarok was the end of Asgard and the evil that dwelt within it, and now you tell me that _that_ isn’t true either,” Anima said.

Loki smiled at her. “Oh Puppy, Asgard isn’t a parasite. It is a part of Yggdrasil just like all the nine realms are a part of Yggdrasil, some hold the roots, others the stem, or the water of its life, all breed beings that protect and defend it from threats across all dimensions.”

“So what part of Yggdrasil is Asgard?” Anima asked.

Loki smiled at her, “Asgard? Asgard is the flower.”

“What?” Anima exclaimed. 

_What?!_ Nal said in her head.

 _WHAT?!_ Daianya echoed.

“Asgard is Yggdrasil’s bloom, a realm of unsurpassed beauty filled with beings who seem to enjoy crossbreeding with whomever they cross paths with, flowering on a great, cosmic scale all its own, and one day, like all flowers, it must wither and die, and hopefully release a seed. And after it has fallen, after Ragnarok has reduced Asgard to fire and dust and ash… after all that… Yggdrasil will begin again. A new realm will arise, a new Asgard, a place for its people to go and settle and restart the cycle once more.”

Anima stared at him in shock. “That’s… that’s… I don’t know what that is,” she said.

Loki laughed. “That’s Yggdrasil, our great world tree and creator. It is a being of unfathomable power and awe, and we, all of us, are subject to its will.”

“So when will Ragnarok happen?” Anima asked.

Loki shrugged. “When Sutur’s crown is ripped from his head and placed in the Eternal Flame. No doubt when Yggdrasil, or rather its seed is ready, then the events triggering Ragnarok will begin.”

 _I wonder how big the window of opportunity for pollination is?_ Nal thought in Anima’s head. _Flowers can bloom from anywhere from a few hours to several months. I imagine Yggdrasil must have a fairly long window of opportunity, and how does it pollinate? Does it self-pollinate? Ask Loki, ask him now._

Anima turned to Loki. “Nal has questions,” she said.

“I thought she might,” Loki said with a smile. “I wish I had the answers, but I only know what the stories tell me, and those were written long before I was born.”

“Asgard is estimated to be just shy of fifty thousand years old,” Anima said. “The other nine realms are closer to four and a half _billion_ years old.”

“Yes indeed, almost a hundred thousand times younger,” Loki said.

“Does that mean Yggdrasil has bloomed almost a _hundred thousand_ times before?” Anima asked.

 _Unlikely, if Yggdrasil is truly some kind of great cosmic plant-like species, then it would have to grow to maturity before blooming for the first time. Who knows how long that took?_ Nal thought. _Although now that I think about it, sentient life across the nine realms all evolved around the same time, about 200,000 years ago, so if we consider that the point of maturity – and I’m not saying it is – then this Asgard is four times younger than the most likely evolution of the first Aesir, but we still can’t speculate on how many times it may have bloomed in that time period, because we don’t know how long each cycle takes to reach Ragnarok._

“Not sure,” Loki said, oblivious to Nal’s musings. “The stories don’t say how many times it’s happened before, only that it has. I know one or two fragments of sagas that survive through myth and legend, one about the Asgard which was shaped like a ball, one that was said to be hollow inside and held a snake with _wickedly_ acidic venom, and one about the Asgard that was shaped like a ring. Personally I like the layout of this one, other than the mountains of course, they could be positioned better. I swear this Asgard looks designed to be seen from only one direction. Approach it from the other side and the whole area is made of jutting rock, very unsightly.”

“You make it sound as though Asgard was _designed_ ,” Anima said. 

_If there are three previously known Asgards, and then this one which would be considered the fourth, and the point of maturity is taken from the time sentient live evolved… then each Asgard would have to be about… fifty thousand years old…when Ragnarok… occurred._ Nal thought, slowly trailing off as realisation hit. _Ah._

Anima winced awkwardly and turned back to pay attention to Loki, who had shrugged at her last statement. “Who knows how they are made, the sagas say they have all been different so clearly Yggdrasil doesn’t use a defined template. Maybe each Asgard is shaped by the survivors of the last one.”

“There are supposed to be survivors?” Anima asked.

“The prophecy which is told on Jotunheim says that Ragnarok will have two survivors, the God who shall place Surtur’s crown in the Eternal Flame and a God of Seeing, who shall lead the way to the site of the next Asgard, which the first God – the flame one – shall claim for Yggdrasil. Other survivors are optional but the chosen two are apparently extremely important for the whole process. Who knows what would happen if it got interrupted?” Loki said.

“And the scholars of Asgard have never heard of this prophecy?” Anima asked.

“The scholars of Asgard do not value the old sagas of Jotunheim, so they’ve never taken the time to listen,” Loki said, “which will almost certainly backfire on them one day, when the end comes calling.”

 _One day,_ Nal thought to the other two.

 _Surtur is content to stay in Muspelheim, or so King Bor says,_ Daianya thought.

 _And we’ve never known him to lie about **anything**_ , Anima thought sarcastically.

Loki looked at her worried expression. “Relax, Puppy! Relax! I’m betting there’s millennia left to go before Ragnarok, and I’m sure when the time does come then whoever is king will know what to do to save the people. The true spirit of Asgard is its people after all.”

“If Ragnarok happens while you are around, you’ll help save everyone, won’t you?” Anima asked him.

“I promise, Puppy, I promise with all my heart that I’ll do everything in my power not to let the people get hurt,” Loki said.

****

Hela sat next to King Bor and tried not to look bored. He was overseeing the courts, and had asked both her and Daianya to accompany him.

Daianya – curse her – actually seemed interested in what was going on, other than for a brief few minutes when she seemed to be suddenly really distracted by something. But that was over now, and she was diligently paying attention as the man pled his case.

“What do you two think?” Bor asked as the man stuttered to a halt.

Hela cursed internally; she had been so focussed on not looking bored that she hadn’t been paying attention.

“You first, Daianya, go on,” she said quickly.

“I think he needs to pay his fine,” Daianya said. “You knew about it, you knew it came with penalties for not paying, but instead of contacting the merchant and trying to set up some kind of payment plan you ignored him for months. He does not have a duty to carry the cost of your selfishness. If you were having trouble paying you should have spoken up.”

Bor looked across at Hela.

“I agree,” Hela said. “Make him pay.”

“We are all in agreement,” Bor said. “I order your assets to be seized and sold to pay your debt. If there is not enough, you will work as a labourer for the palace and your wages shall be paid to the merchant until your debt is paid off.”

Hela shifted in her seat, already bored again. The punishment was so _mild_ , surely such a leach on society ought to be removed from it?

“Next case!” Bor called out as the man was marched out. “You did well there, Granddaughter,” he said to Daianya.

Hela fought to keep a scowl from her face. With Anima’s new spell apparently halting Daianya’s aging, there were no more barriers to a betrothal with Prince Norbleen. Hela had to remind herself that this was good news and that Daianya would soon be gone from Asgard forever. Until then Hela could put up with her. Definitely. Absolutely.

She wondered where Loki was right now, a good murder attempt would be just the thing to settle her nerves. Surely one of these days she would succeed in killing him.

Maybe she should stop trying to avoid being caught and just slam an axe into his head? No, no matter how much Bor hated Loki he would still have to put Hela in the dungeons for such an open display of violence, otherwise the other nobles would get upset, and balancing their happiness was necessary to maintain the integrity of the throne.

Hela smiled to herself. That was a very kingly thought she’d just had. A part of her wanted to go and tell Odin about it. He would be proud of her.

“I think he needs to die,” Daianya said.

Hela’s head snapped around. She had daydreamed through the entirety of the man’s plea for mercy and had no idea what he’d done. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that Daianya thought he should die for it.

Damn. It was probably something really good.

Bor was already turning to look at Hela.

“You know my preferences,” Hela said with a smile, “so it can hardly be surprising that I agree.”

He nodded. “Take him back to the dungeons. Hela can deal with him tomorrow morning. I don’t want to even look at him.”

He turned back towards Daianya again. “Did you look at his soul?”

“I did,” she said. “It was marred by what he’d done. He pleaded that he had changed but he was lying and he knew it. Those poor women.”

“No man should beat his wife,” Bor said. “And no woman should beat her husband. I’ve been married for four and a half thousand years and I can’t say Bestla and I are particularly close but I’d never raise a hand to her, much less torture her like that.”

Hela leaned in toward him. “May I have the trial notes, your Majesty?” she asked. “I wish to ensure a suitable style of execution.”

Bor looked at her, a little puzzled. “I thought you just chopped their heads off,” he said.

“I take my work seriously,” Hela said. “And the punishment should fit the crime, _perfectly_ so if I have any say.”

Bor shrugged his broad shoulders. “Fine, as long as he dies, I don’t care,” he said. “His last wife will never walk again, it’s a miracle she survived.”

Hela smiled graciously. “Thank you, your Majesty,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to say this again because it's awesome, GoofyGoldenGirl has made a playlist of songs for this fic which can be found here:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7IdTRKm312rxQU1ldvGRoU?si=KD1X2kmWT8Ou0NQEFhFSGQ
> 
> I'm also going to 'warn' you now that the final chapter of this fic will be a page of notes that I don't want to clog up the last chapter with. I know readers are disappointed when authors do that without warning them because they think they're getting more story and it turns out they aren't so I'm warning you all now, and will do so again when we get nearer to the end so you know what to expect.
> 
> The end-notes aren't mandatory, by the way, you can totally ignore them, they are for people who had questions about the writing process/areas of inspiration etc. Easier to put it all in one block than trickle-feed it to people as they ask.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading, double thank you for anyone who gave kudos, triple thank you for anyone who has left a comment.


	52. Well, Well, Well

Tyr landed hard on the floor of the indoor training room and coughed as the air was pushed out of his lungs.

“Up,” said General Hymir.

He clambered to his feet and held his swords out defensively.

General Hymir came at him with a series of relentless blows, each one jarring his arms until he lost his grip on his sword.

“Tell me,” asked General Hymir, “why aren’t you better at this?”

Tyr flushed a deep red. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been training daily. I put in more hours than anyone else my age.”

“It’s because you don’t value speed and balance,” General Hymir said. “I wanted you to train against the women because their focus is on balance, speed and flow. An Asgardian woman will always struggle to defeat an Asgardian man in direct competitions of strength. An Aesir woman will struggle against an Aesir man, but be the equal of an Asgardian man. You, my son, are Asgardian. You have imperfections in your heritage which makes you weaker than a pure Aesir. You must _accept_ this and learn to compensate for it. Princess Daianya was the perfect match for you, and you were supposed to learn together what it takes to defeat those stronger than you. Instead I see she has progressed past you, and so have the other trainees! Asgardian women! You should not be defeated by them so easily, but all I saw on the training ground was you embarrassing yourself!”

Tyr looked at his feet. “They cheated,” he mumbled. “They didn’t fight honourably.”

“Honourably?! They fought to win, my son, they used the advantages of their training and their focus. You abandoned yours in front of my eyes. I _know_ you are a better fighter than you showed. But you let your temper cloud your judgement and you fought like an amateur,” General Hymir leaned in and pulled Tyr’s head up so that he could look him in the eye. “True battle is not fair, Tyr. Many a warrior has been felled by dishonourable moves in combat. Their opponent did not care that the fallen thought them dishonourable. In a real battle, it only matters who wins.”

Tyr scowled. “If I fight dirty in training then I’ll be punished for it,” he said.

“You do not have to fight dirty, you have to fight _well_ , and using your opponent’s weight and speed against them is not dirty fighting. It is not ‘women’s tricks’. You have been spending far too much time with those so-called friends of yours. I know their fathers and I do not approve of the way they are changing you.”

“Changing me? Maybe I want to change?” Tyr said. “Maybe I think they talk sense!”

“Lord Eblin wrote a nine-scroll paper on the place of a woman in Asgardian society and was laughed at for weeks. He runs some kind of men’s only organisation now which, I believe, still preaches his stupid opinions. His son, Drow, is the one who says he will only marry a woman who agrees to serve him in all things and abandon her own will and thoughts,” General Hymir said. “Lord Koblow was cheated on by his wife and has taught his son that women are inherently untrustworthy and need to remain by her husband’s side at all times to prevent temptation. _His_ son, Tifer, is engaged to the only woman who will have him, Lord Catren’s daughter. Lord Catren raised her in isolation in his country home, and _his_ son, Renda is the most useless individual I have ever met. He cannot do a thing for himself! He must have a servant with him at all times and when he does not he makes his sister run around after him. I raised you better than that. Your own mother was a Valkyrie!”

“Before she married you and left to be a proper wife!” Tyr retorted.

General Hymir’s face grew dark. “She did not leave the Valkyrie when we married. She left only because carrying and birthing you caused her too great of an injury to ever recover fully.”

“She failed at being a mother because she tried to be a warrior,” Tyr retorted.

General Hymir’s arm came up and Tyr’s eyes widened in sudden fear. General Hymir froze in place for a second before slowly lowering his arm again.

“In all my life I have never stuck you,” he hissed. “But by Yggdrasil’s mighty branches, in all my life I have never wanted to strike you more than right now. You will not see those pathetic excuses for friends again. You will remain in the barracks under constant watch of my men from this day until I decide you can be trusted to move about freely. You will know, intimately, how terrible it is to be deprived of your freedoms, and you will understand that doing so to another person, not because of what they said but because of what they are, is a stupid, _stupid_ thought to entertain in your head.”

Tyr didn’t say anything. He was still watching his father’s hand as though it might come back up again.

“Go to the barracks now and wait. I will arrange to have you babysat,” General Hymir spat in disgust.

Tyr fled.

****

Hela was sitting in her office, leafing through the trial notes of the man she was to execute. He had been quite the tyrant over his wives. The fourth and last one had escaped, the other three had been found buried underneath various garden beds and structures once the guards had conducted an investigation.

According to the fourth wife’s testimony, his favourite thing to do had been to force her to eat rancid food just to watch her suffer from it. He had beaten her, raped her, choked her, done oh so many violent and degrading things to her.

The man was a member of some kind of organisation called the True Men’s Alliance. Apparently they believed that men should rule the household, that women should serve men in all things, and that when a man came of age a woman should be assigned to him, which to Hela just sounded like arranged marriages with fewer steps and no political gain, but then she wasn’t one of these ‘true men’ and therefore, no doubt, couldn’t be expected to understand.

She was really looking forward to killing this one. Hela was no stranger to holding views that did not align with the rest of Asgard’s population, but this whole ‘men best’ bullshit was ridiculous. 

She rose and sauntered out to the execution yard, where the man in question had been tied up an hour earlier.

He was moaning in pain; the chains were putting great strain on his limbs and joints due to them being just a little bit too short.

Hela leaned over him and grinned. “I’m going to execute you,” she said pleasantly. “It’s a job a truly enjoy on a deeply personal level, but I want you to know that I am _also_ doing this because you faced the king’s justice and he decided you had to die. It’s completely official.”

She leaned down until she was closer to his face. “I’ve read the injury report on your wife. I am going to recreate it _exactly_ with you.”

She straightened up as he found his voice. “Female scum,” he gasped. “You dare to lay a hand on me.”

Hela looked down at him in surprise. “No? Or rather, I would dare but I don’t want to. You stink.” She summoned a weapon, not a blade but a long handled staff with a bulbous end of solid metal. “Let’s begin,” she said with a grin.

His screams began echoing across the yard as Hela, one strike at a time, slowly pummelled him to death. She made sure to avoid any vital areas so that his agony would last for hours.

****

It was late afternoon by the time the man died and Hela went to wash the sweat of effort off her body. She was hyped up again, as death always seemed to make her, but rather than work it off with the help of her secretary, she wanted to prolong the feeling. 

Refreshed and outwardly calm, Hela walked through the various areas of the palace looking for Loki. Maybe today was the day.

Loki was difficult to kill, that much was certain. Hela had come to suspect that he was actually a healing god of some kind and that he was repairing his injuries faster than they could kill him. Certainly some of her best efforts would have felled almost anyone else.

He was in the water garden, sitting on the edge of a quaint-looking well and looked as though he was waiting for someone.

Loki spent a lot of time in the gardens these days, Hela mused, he seemed to enjoy the fresh air. Hela preferred air scented with blood and battle herself, but there was no accounting for taste.

She slipped behind a weeping tree and waited until no one was looking at him, then she summoned an axe and threw it at his head.

She’d have to pull it out again so as not to get caught, but she was growing frustrated with him continuing to live and was willing to take a little bit of a risk.

The axe hit him in the side of the head and Hela grinned as the blood spurted out. Her grin became a look of annoyance as he tumbled into the well from the impact and out of sight.

She darted across to the well and looked down. There was no sign of him in the deep blackness.

Maybe she’d gotten away with it? If his body was never found then no one would be able to pin his murder on her.

She turned and walked quickly away. Hela rarely visited the gardens at the best of times; she did not want anyone seeing her and wondering what she was doing there.

****

Odin and Bor entered the water garden together on their way to the rock garden. Bor had just signed Nal’s petition to train in Vanaheim fighting techniques and told his son about it at the same time. Odin had been surprised, but recalled a feint memory of Nal always being busy at the same times every week, and given that the petition was several years old, he had ventured a guess that perhaps she had started without permission. Bor had immediately insisted that they go and check. He wasn’t upset at all, but he wanted to know whether Nal was at an appropriate level to enter the training yards and fight some of the Valkyrie trainees.

“It’s a good thing for the people to see the royal family be so strong,” he said. “I’d enter myself and give them something to marvel over, but there are those who say my opponent will let me win because I am the king. You should enter though, fight a few Aesir warriors, it’ll make the people love you.”

“They already love him,” said an echoey, and seemingly disembodied voice.

It was coming from the well.

Odin and Bor exchanged a look of confusion and headed over to it.

“What are you doing down there?!” Odin exclaimed, seeing Loki in the well about halfway down the long shaft.

“Climbing up,” Loki said. “It’s been a little rough going, what with the damp causing moss and other slimy things, but I’ve reached the drier bit now and I think it’ll only take a few minutes more.”

“I’ll lower the bucket rope,” Odin said, reaching for it.

“No,” Bor said. “Let him climb.”

“Father, he’s injured, look at the gash on his face,” Odin said.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Loki said. “Protective spell stopped the worst of it, but I’m going to need to improve it, clearly. I’ll be speaking to Anima about it as soon as I get out; she’ll know what to do.”

Bor grunted and turned away, but Odin refused to move.

“Minor injury or not you still _fell in the well,_ Loki, you should accept help to get you out of there quickly. What if you slip and fall again?”

“There’s plenty of water to break my fall,” Loki said, inching a little higher.

“That’s not the point,” Odin said. “You could have broken your neck in a fall like that.”

“Could have. Didn’t,” Loki said stubbornly.

“Just leave him,” Bor said. “The rock garden is just through there.”

“If you are hoping to speak to Princess Nal, I’m afraid you are out of luck,” Loki said from the well. “She doesn’t train on Borsdays.”

“You knew she’d been training?” Odin asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Or me?” Bor added.

“She sent you a petition, I figured it’s not my place to tell you her news,” Loki said, grunting slightly with effort as he climbed a few more feet.

Odin rolled his eyes and grabbed the rope. With it to help him, and Odin pulling from above, Loki was able to clamber out of the well a minute later.

“How did you fall down there anyway?” Bor asked.

“I’m the God of Wells,” Loki said.

“You’re the God of Annoying Me.”

“That too.”

“Are you also the God of Surviving blows to the head?” Odin asked sharply. “That gash is clearly a weapon’s mark. Who did this to you?”

Loki gave him a determined stare. “Guess,” He said. 

Odin shook his head. “But Hela’s been doing so well!” he protested.

“Hela hit you in the head with a blade?” Bor asked. “What a good girl,” he added, only slightly sarcastically.

“Father this is not good. Hela can’t just attack people who upset her. I truly thought she understood that,” Odin said.

Loki shrugged. “Some natures cannot be denied,” he said.

“Hela is making good progress,” Bor said. “She made the right decisions at the court a few days ago, and her role as executioner has helped to calm her more violent impulses.”

“Except for attacking me,” Loki said.

“Who doesn’t want to attack you?” Bor snapped at him. “Son, I want you to talk to her again, keep teaching her about leadership. You are making progress despite this… setback.”

“So you mean to put her on the throne one day?” Loki asked with an incredulous look on his face. “Does that mean Daianya is headed to Vanaheim?”

“I don’t discuss my plans with tricksters,” Bor said.

“How about family?”

“You are not my family.”

“I’m his family,” Loki said, pointing at Odin. “And Hela is also his family, so by the transitive property of family – ”

“You are not, and never will be, the family of anyone other than my son, who in a moment of foolishness decided to make you his blood brother,” Bor said.

“Loki did save my life,” Odin said.

“You saved his in return during the Titan war,” Bor said.

“That just makes him _more_ of a blood brother,” Loki said, “because we go both ways.”

“When does Nal train?” Bor asked.

“Odinsdays and Burisdays,” Loki said, “at ten in the morning for two hours each time. She’s really quite good at it now. If only she would learn ice fighting, she’d be unstoppable.”

“Ice fighting is for giants,” Bor said. “Someone who can throw up walls as high as a building. Nal’s far too little to be effective in battle with ice as her primary weapon.”

“You really are a battle god, aren’t you?” Loki asked.

Bor smiled at him, possibly for the first time ever. “I was born during a war, Trickster, of course I am.”

“So was I, but you don’t hear me going on about battle tactics and opponents’ weaknesses,” Loki said.

“You are not a god,” Bor said.

“Sure I am, I’m the God of Not Doing All That Stuff I Just Said.”


	53. A Rumour of Shifting Realities

**Three years until the Convergence**

Malekith sat on his throne and waited for the trader to enter. The man had delivered three hundred sets of armour from the blacksmiths of Corantar before requesting an audience with the king, claiming to have news which he would want to hear.

The trader was shown in, Malekith glanced down briefly at the notes he had been given before looking back up.

“Lormax Himdisir?” he said as the man approached and bowed deeply.

“Yes your Majesty. I am a humble trader and transporter of goods,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Rise, and tell me what it is you want,” Malekith said.

Lormax straightened up and gave Malekith a nervous smile. “I heard that you were interested in weapons,” he said. “Strong weapons, the kind that could destroy an entire warship in a single blow.”

Malekith leaned forward slightly. “I’m listening,” he said.

“I heard news of such a weapon. Out on the trade-station near Morag, the people there said that a powerful artefact, similar to their own Great Orb, had been rumoured to have been abandoned on a planet named Arnten Seven. It used to be inhabited, but an accident with the artefact caused the planet to become warped and… strange.”

“Strange,” Malekith repeated flatly.

“That’s what they said. Walls become floors, plants change in front of your eyes… strange,” Lormax said.

“Tell me about the Great Orb of Morag,” Malekith said.

“It powers the entire planet,” Lormax said. “Its power is channelled by a series of great machines positioned all around the planet.”

Malekith glanced over at Algrim briefly before looking back at Lormax. “Tell my General everything you know about both the Great Orb and the Artefact of Arnten Seven. If your information is useful then he shall reward you.”

Algrim stepped forward as Malekith rose and left the room. He didn’t dare hope that something fruitful had actually turned up. For years he had been seeking something that could be used to devastate Asgard, and for years nothing had turned up. His own scientists had created a number of large-scale nuclear devices capable of causing massive levels of damage, but had the drawback that Asgard’s magical defences were capable of diverting that energy into their own power generators. What Malekith needed was a weapon which was not purely physical, but also magical in origin, which was a lot harder to find.

Algrim did not come to find him for over an hour, but when he did he looked pleased.

“I believe he is telling the truth,” he said. “There is a weapon, potentially two, which can help us.”

“I would prefer the Great Orb, at least we know it’s real,” Malekith said. “But I fear that if it is powering at entire planet then it will not be easy to obtain.”

“I agree. However I still propose that I travel there first, both to see if it can be taken and to seek more information about the ‘strangeness’ of Arnten Seven,” Algrim said. “I will go alone, as a traveller seeking knowledge. If I can obtain either of them for you I will, otherwise I will return for men and supplies.”

Malekith nodded curtly, and Algrim departed.

****

Hela signed off the last of the paperwork with a flourish. She still hated it to a very high degree, but ever since she’d found out that each file contained the trial notes for why each person was being executed she had found herself paying more attention.

Today’s lucky criminals were a pair of brothers from Vanaheim. They had followed the daughter of an Asgardian trader back to Asgard and had stalked her, threatened her, and finally attempted to murder her, and all because she wouldn’t go out with one of them. Apparently they felt ‘disrespected’. 

Hela liked these ones. No one ever objected to these ones. Even the family of the men had not bothered to come to Asgard to appeal for mercy. King Dimcken had ignored the plea they had sent home. They were all Hela’s now. 

She sauntered out into the yard and basked in the feel of the sunlight as they were dragged before her. The younger one was trembling and stared at the ground. The older one glared at her in defiance.

Choices, choices.

Hela smiled slowly at the two of them. It would be so easy to kill them quickly, lop their heads off in a single blow and head back inside, but she liked to watch people suffer. She liked a slow death.

“The younger one first,” she said, nodding to the guards.

The younger one yelped in fear as he was dragged up and tied to the block.

“According to the trial notes, you wanted to have sex with Miss Peoneia Gandosdottir, and when she rebuffed you, you engaged the assistant of your older brother to, let me see here, ‘teach her a lesson in respect’. It appears that you terrorised her for a few weeks while the guards tried to find you, and then you grabbed her in the street, pulled her into a cart and assaulted her while your brother drove to an isolated location, at which point you announced your intention to ‘rape her to death’. Tell me, why did you feel entitled to her body for sexual gratification purposes?” Hela asked him in as pleasant a tone as she could manage.

He whimpered and didn’t answer.

Hela sighed dramatically and summoned a thin blade. She glanced over at the older brother to see if he was watching. He was.

“I understand the guards caught you before you could begin the rape, but that her clothes were all but off and the poor, _poor_ thing was quite terrorised,” she continued. “I am against this. Rape serves no purpose other than the accidental creation of life and, honestly, such a thing is disgusting. Have you ever really considered it? Life? Truly horrible.”

She placed the point on the blade on the back of his neck and ran it slowly down the length of his back. He cried out in pain as it sliced through his clothing; the blade was so sharp it cut through the fabric as though it was made of mist.

Hela glanced again at the older brother, who was still looking defiant.

She played the blade over the skin of the younger man, making him cry out and whimper as more and more cuts began to bleed over his skin.

“I feel disrespected by your existence,” she said casually. “Using your logic I should be able to rape you to death.”

She glanced again at the older brother, who was still trying to hold a defiant gaze, but his façade was cracking.

“How long did it take to ride to the place you were going to murder her? How long were you planning to try and keep her alive before you let her breath stop and her heart cease?” Hela asked.

She nodded at one of her guards, who handed her a bag of salt she had request from the kitchens that morning.

Hela turned to stare directly across at the older brother before she dumped the entire bag onto the younger one’s sliced-open back.

His screams were so agonising that several ravens took off from nearby trees. Hela though did not look away from the older brother, who had finally broken and was trying to break out of his bonds at the sound of the younger’s cries.

“Do you have an objection?” She asked, walking slowly towards him.

“Bitch,” he spat, “whore!”

“Yes, and sometimes, what of it?” Hela asked him.

“You think you’re safe because you’re a princess? You will be brought down, you will all be brought down. They’ll sell you to a whore-house and you’ll be fucked until you die, whore!” he yelled at her.

Hela squatted down onto her haunches so that she could look him in the eyes. “Who will?” She asked.

He spat into her face. Hela dodged it easily and rose again. “Are there people out there planning to attack the royal family?” she asked. “People who want to throw me and my sisters into sexual slavery? That sounds like those True Men’s Alliance people. I’ve been seeing a few of them come through my office in the last few years - always violent, always arrogant, always dead in the end. If I actually cared about people I still wouldn’t understand why they are so upset.”

“The True Men’s Alliance are heroes!” the older brother yelled as his sibling’s screams slowly became moans of lingering pain.

Hela shrugged. “Heroes are stupid. They called me a hero for liberating a dozen worlds in the Titan War, but I can’t even remember what any of them are called. Are your heroes going to do anything to rescue you? No? That’s what I thought.”

She returned to the younger brother and held out her hand for the large jug of vinegar which was next on her list of things to pour over his back.

She maintained eye contact with the older one the entire time she poured, and laughed at his helplessness.

“You will pay!” he screamed, turning red in the face.

Hela walked back over to him. “Your turn,” she said, and pulled him to his feet. He struggled, but Hela was a strong woman made stronger by the growing sense of death in the air.

She summoned an axe and held it out to his bound hands. “Kill your brother,” she said. “If you do, you will both end his misery and escape the same treatment. If you don’t, then you will be strapped to that horse over there and dragged around the yard until enough of your skin wears away that your body can’t take the strain and you finally die. Your choice.”

The younger brother was panting in pain, but managed to whimper “Do it.”

The older brother glared at Hela with a hard expression. “I will die a hero for men,” he said.

Hela grinned. “Oh good,” she said. “Tie him to the horse and begin.”

She flicked a wrist and created a whip lined with thorns. “I’m afraid your brother doesn’t love you enough to give you peace,” she said cheerfully. “So that’s means it’s up to me.”

She began whipping into his back with hard strokes, dragging the whip through his flesh with each strike. His screams of pain renewed in earnest as the older brother’s punishment began.

It took four hours for them both to die, and by the time it was done Hela was in a state of near-ecstasy.

“Clean the yard up,” she commanded and headed quickly inside to where her secretary was waiting.

She handed him the whip. “Down to the bone,” she gasped. “Now, tear my flesh from my body. Don’t stop until you can see my ribs… and then fuck me while I heal.”

He took the whip without a word and rolled up his sleeves as Hela laid herself down on the stone floor.

****

Tofer, son of Holdan, Dwarven trader from Nidavellir, was unloading cargo out on the trading station orbiting Morag when he saw the Dark Elf step off a single-engine transport. Dark Elves were a rare sight this far away from Svartalfheim, which was the only reason he noticed him in the first place.

“I wonder what he’s here for?” Tofer said to his father, who looked up.

“Trouble, most likely,” Holdan said with a grunt. “You can’t trust a Dark Elf to do much else.”

“He’s alone,” Tofer noted.

“Leave him be, best to avoid them when you see them. We’ll finish unloading and take off for home,” Holdan said.

“We were going to spend a few days relaxing,” protested Tofer’s younger brother, Lordan.

“Not anymore,” Holdan said curtly.

Tofer grabbed the next load and set it down on the transport pad. “Can I at least go and show the trader from Rodan my anti-gravity devices? He said last time there was a big market out here. I want him to see my prototype.”

Holdan shot a dark look at the direction the Dark Elf had gone. “Be quick,” he said.

Tofer headed back into the ship and grabbed his prototype, before hurrying back out and through the trading station.

The trader from Rodan had a small permanent shop set up on the far side of the station. Like all and Tofer’s hurried pace caused the shorter people from Morag and other worlds to duck out of his way almost comically.

He reached the shop and ducked his head to get inside. “Mardo! Are you here?” he called out.

Mardo appeared from the back of the shop and gave him a broad smile. “Ah, Tofer, my friend! How are you?”

There was something not quite right about the way he was speaking. He seemed too cheerful, his smile and manner badly covering a sense of nervousness and fear.

Tofer immediately shot him a concerned look, but what he said was “I’m well, my friend. I have brought you the prototype you wanted. Is now a good time to go over it or would you prefer I come back after the shop is closed?”

Mardo gave him a pleading look in return. “If you could bring it after I close today that would be best. I am simply swamped with paperwork,” he said.

Tofer nodded and mouthed ‘police?’

Mardo gave the tiniest nod.

“Very well,” Tofer said. “I will return after hours. Perhaps we can have dinner and discuss the potential for distribution, if you like the proto type.”

He backed out of the store and forced himself to walk away at a calm pace. As soon as he was out of sight he ran to the nearest police office and rushed through the door.

“Something is happening at Trader Mardo’s shop,” he said. “I was in there and he wanted help but was afraid to ask for it.”

Two police officers picked up their weapons and headed out the door while the third grabbed a recording pad.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” she said.

Tofer began to tell her about his strange encounter with Mardo, including the part where he asked for police and received yes as an answer.

She noted everything down, nodding along as he spoke. He had only just finished when the police returned with Mardo and another man in tow.

It was the Dark Elf, and he looked furious. Tofer leaned back further into the wall, as though somehow that would help all ten feet of him disappear.

“A Dwarf,” the Dark Elf said. “Of course it is. The trader called you Tofer, yes?”

Tofer couldn’t back away any further; he just stared at the Dark Elf silently.

“You are under arrest for threatening with a weapon and attempted robbery,” the police officer said. “You will be processed and sent to the surface for trial.”

“You can go, Sir,” the third police officer said to Tofer. “We have you statement.”

Tofer left the office but did not head back to his ship. Instead he waited outside Mardo’s shop for the trader to return.

“What did he want?” he asked as soon as Mardo showed up.

“He wanted a number of specialty items, including anti-gravity devices like you were delivering, which is why I wanted you to take them away again,” Madro said. “And he wanted to know about the Great Orb. It was pretty obvious he wanted to steal it.”

“Dark Elves are sly, grasping creatures,” Tofer said, repeating what his father had always told him. “They can’t be trusted. If they want something as powerful as the Great Orb it will not be to run a realm as Morag does. It will be to destroy and attack.”

“He also tried to take my star-charts,” Mardo said. “He wanted information on how to reach another world.”

“Which one?” Tofer asked curiously.

“Arnten Seven, I don’t know why, it’s a minor system with no inhabitants, at least, not anymore. Arnten Seven is famous for being a place of shifting reality and, frankly, total weirdness,” Mardo said.

“I wonder why he would want to seek out something like that?” Tofer asked.

Mardo just shrugged. “He’s in custody now, so I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said. “He’s not going anywhere for a while. Armed robbery is a year in prison, and he was caught in the act so there’s not much hope of appeal.”

Tofer nodded. “Just be careful after he is released,” he warned. “Dark Elves are not known for forgetting grudges, and they are just the sort to hold a grudge against their victims for daring to resist.”

“I’ll let the authorities know,” Mardo said seriously. “In a year or so I might have to hire myself some security until I know he’s left the system.”

Tofer nodded. “He knows my name. I’ll have to let my father know. But in the meantime, here is the prototype. Do you want me to go over it now? My father wants us to leave the station immediately after unloading, so it’s now or not for another three months.”

Mardo sat down and held out his hands. “Now is good for me,” he said.


	54. Revelations

Daianya sat at her father’s side as the Security Council members took it in turns to report on their various areas of control.

She was dressed in a rather ornate gown, with a golden belt and other decorations. She would much rather wear her armour or a Valkyrie training uniform, but King Bor had been insistent that she ‘look like a princess’. He’d long ago given up on making Hela do it, but he was holding firm when it came to Daianya.

“It’s camouflage,” Nal had said that morning as she helped pull Daianya’s hair into something respectable. “They will underestimate you and be intimidated by you, depending on the advisor. There’s a reason Father wears his full armour to these things.”

“I could wear my full armour,” Daianya had said.

“You haven’t earned it yet,” Nal had replied. “Become a full Valkyrie, fight a few battles, stop a few threats, then they will see you as you are. Until then, you will be an overly ornate, untouchable princess.”

Lord Marndrak, head of the Secret Regiment, was reporting on what his spies had uncovered across the nine realms.

“According to my source, King Grundroth continues his reign without challenge or incident,” he said. “Jotunheim remains quiet and peaceful at present, which is good for us because the steel deliveries they are sending us have been uninterrupted so far. Our army is well equipment with Asgardian-made swords and armour.”

“Grundroth is getting older and has no children, what do you anticipate the situation being should he die without an heir?” Odin asked.

“Civil war is the most likely, between three strong candidates at present, although one of them, General Thrym, is the most likely victor. He may even be able to prevent war altogether if he is clever enough. He controls the majority of their army and he has worked hard to break the bonds of family between his men in favour of a more unified connection,” Lord Marndrak said.

“Surely Grundroth wants an heir though?” Lord Cakwalr said. “He must hope for a peaceful transition of power?”

“He wants Nal,” Odin said. “He wants her to strengthen the peace our two realms have.”

The Lords and Ladies on the council all glanced at one another. Nobody wanted to ask Odin how he felt about that.

“She’d do well in their climate, at least,” Lady Ordane said at last.

“Perhaps,” Odin said curtly. “What about Malekith?”

The room collectively let out its breath as everyone in it latched on to the new topic.

“Malekith is a possible concern. Our spies report that he has been attacking cargo ships in high numbers for the past decade or so. He was careful before not to take too much so that the traders didn’t avoid his region of space, but now his efforts have increased. They are talking about putting in a series of beacons to guide trading ships around the Svartalfheim system,” Lord Marndrak said.

“What does he need all that cargo for?” Odin asked.

“Dark Elf traders are selling most of it on at less official ports and trading stations. They are using the money to buy Jotunheim steel second hand, as well as uru – if they can find it – and any other type of sturdy metals and materials.”

“What are they using it for?” Daianya asked, causing everyone in the room to look at her.

Lord Marndrak gave her a polite nod of acknowledgement. “We aren’t certain yet. At first we thought it was to build up equipment for their army, same as us, but they’ve bought far too much for something like that. They could outfit a hundred thousand men with the metals they’ve bought. We believe it must be some kind of building project, although we don’t know what yet.”

Daianya nodded slowly. “What about ships?” she asked. 

“Your Grace?”

“What if they were building ships? They have raiders and cargo vessels, but nothing larger. Perhaps they are building up a fleet.”

“But to what end?” Lord Marndrak asked. “They are not at war with anyone, if they planned to invade somewhere in the nine realms they would use the Bifrost, that much metal to build ships doesn’t make sense.”

“They are not at war with anyone _yet_ ,” Daianya corrected. “If I were going to declare war on someone, I wouldn’t do it until I had everything I needed to conquer them, otherwise there’s too much risk of it all going wrong.”

Odin nodded. “I agree,” he said, drawing the attention of the room back to him. “We need to know more about what Malekith is planning. The Dark Elves are not our allies, not since the Titan War, and ever then they only joined us for the sake of their own preservation. I don’t want us to be caught unawares.”

As one, the council bowed to him in acknowledgement of his words.

“I will instruct my spies to gather more information about Malekith’s activities,” Lord Marndrak said.

****

“You did well in there,” Odin said to Daianya as they left the meeting an hour later. “Your observations were very astute.”

“Thank you,” Daianya said. “Do you think Malekith is of great concern?”

“To someone, yes. I suspect he plans to wage war against the Light Elves. They are traditional enemies and frequently have minor scuffles,” Odin said. 

“He hasn’t been very fond of Asgard there last few decades,” Daianya said.

“Malekith is no fool. He knows he can’t take Asgard.” Odin said. “First he’d need more men than the army and the Valkyrie combined. Once he has that he would need to fit them with armour that our weapons struggle to cut through, _then_ he would have to equip them with weapons that can break through our armour, and _then_ he would have to transport them all here, and with our Bifrost control system preventing unauthorised entry, he would have to build enough space-worthy ships to cross the vast distance between us. He doesn’t have the numbers, the weapons, or the ships.”

“It sounds like he might be working on all three though,” Daianya pointed out.

Odin shook his head. “You’re not wrong, but even if he has all of that, Asgard has protections which run deeper than simply physical. We have the energy wall built after the Titan attack – “

“Not finished and it only protects the palace,” Daianya pointed out.

“We also have a large number of magical defences which have been put into place over many millennia,” Odin said. “Malekith would need a weapon great enough to blow our realm to pieces in a single blow. He doesn’t have that.”

“The Titan’s did,” Daianya said.

“I can’t sooth your fears, can I?” Odin asked with a smile.

Daianya shook her head. “No, although I prefer to call them ‘concerns’.”

“Well I’ve got a meeting with the Generals this afternoon to go over our defences and discuss potential threats, you may come and see for yourself why I remain confident in Asgard’s safety,” Odin said.

Daianya inclined her head. “I’m sure it will be very enlightening,” she said. “Will Hela be attending?”

“I don’t know,” Odin said in a slightly annoyed tone. “She skipped this morning because of an execution, why she couldn’t reschedule it I don’t know.”

“She probably just didn’t want to,” Daianya said. “She loves executing people; I think sometimes it’s the only time she feels alive.”

Odin looked at her curiously. “Is that a sisterly theory or a goddess one?” he asked.

Daianya looked away. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Hela is… never mind.”

Odin stepped closer to her, looking at her face intensely. “Hela is what?” he asked.

Daianya struggled with herself, but gave in to her father’s gaze. “Cancer,” she said softly. “Hela is cancer.”

Odin shook his head and turned away. “Everyone is so eager to give up on her,” he snapped. “She is trying, I know she is, and she _can_ learn to be a good ruler.”

Daianya sighed softly and bowed her head. “As you say, Father,” she said.

“You don’t believe me though, do you?” Odin asked her.

Daianya looked up at him with pity in her eyes. “No one believes you, Father, I wish we did, but away from you and Grandfather she acts as though your lessons never existed.”

Odin sighed heavily. “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “I need to think about things.”

Daianya bowed to him and left him alone.

****

Further up the corridor, Hela sank back into the shadows with a sneer of outrage. How _dare_ Daianya call her cancer? How _dare_ she poison Odin against her? What was the point of even trying?! Did no one see how much she hated every minute of acting the way Odin wanted, but that she was doing it anyway? Did no one care?

Daianya was trying to replace her. It was so clear now. That ambitious bitch was weaselling her way into everything! King Bor’s approval, Odin’s affections, the Valkryie, the Army, everything!

Hela stalked away in a fury. Daianya had to be removed. It was the only way. But to kill her would cause backlash from more than one powerful person. If Hela was to do it then she would have to be discrete. 

A training accident? Too many people around. Poison? Only if it was possible not to be traced. 

The best thing to do would be to send Daianya to Vanaheim and arrange to have her killed once she was there, but Bor was proving to be reluctant to move forward with the betrothal.

Hela reached the doorway to the gardens and slammed them open, stalking out into the sunlight and marching angrily through the tree garden as another thought hit.

 _Of course he was reluctant!_ Daianya was actively trying to replace Hela, it was so obvious! Of course she would resist being married off to another realm, and Bor was falling for it! When Daianya ‘helped’ Bragi at his moment of death – now that Hela thought about it – must have all been a part of Daianya’s plan to gain Bor’s approval and take Hela’s place in the line of succession!

Beyond angry and without a target to hit, Hela lashed out with a swing of her arm. A wave of black energy left her arm and hit the wide, squat tree in front of her sitting inside of a protective metal cage.

It died instantly. Its leaves curled and crumbled, its branches snapped off. The bark dried and peeled all along its length. Hela stared at it in shock; she’d never done _that_ before. 

She glanced around quickly, checking that no one saw her. Satisfied that she was alone, she turned and fled the garden as quickly as possible.

High up in another tree, Loki peeked out from between the branches. 

“Well, that’s… new,” he said in a disturbed tone.

****

Eitri was carefully carving into the blade of a sword when his secretary knocked gently on the door.

“Your Majesty, one of our traders has returned with disturbing news,” she said.

“Send him in,” Eitri said.

Brokkr, who had been sitting quietly working on a creation of his own, glanced up as the two men entered Eitri’s private chamber.

There were two of them, a man and his son. Eitri carefully finished the point of the swirl he was working on and laid the blade down across his knees. “You bring news?” he asked them.

“I am Holdan, Son of Makre, and this is my son, Tofer,” Holdan said, gesturing Tofer forwards.

“Your Majesty. I encountered a Dark Elf out on the Morag trading station. He was trying to steal their Great Orb, the one that powers their entire planet,” Tofer said, looking at his feet. He had never been in the presence of his king before. “He was stopped by their police force, but my father said we should tell you because it is known that they tried to commission a great deal of weapons from us.”

“If this elf was acting in an official capacity then it means King Malekith may be intending to create a weapon of untold destruction,” Holdan said. “I felt it best to inform you in case this information was pertinent.”

Eitri nodded slowly. “On its own there is no reason to assume that the elf was acting for Malekith’s desires, but you are right, knowing that he is building up his army to the levels of a conqueror makes this information more important. You say he was apprehended?”

“Yes, your Majesty, and he will likely be locked away for some time,” Tofer said.

“I doubt it,” Brokkr spoke up. “Dark Elves have powers over shadow and night, the people of Morag do not have any magic, do they?”

“No Sir, they do not,” Tofer said. “Um… the elf knows my name.”

“I advise you to stay on Nidavellir for now then,” Eitri said, “at least while we investigate.”

Brokkr straightened up in his seat. “Do you know the elf’s name?” he asked.

“He didn’t give it, the only other thing I know is that he wanted to know the location of a planet called Arnten Seven, famous apparently for being, ah, weird.”

“Weird?” Brokkr asked.

“My friend said something about shifting realities,” Tofer said.

Brokkr looked across at Eitri, who raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for telling us. This place of shifting realities may be the more important piece of information. I doubt very much that a single elf can remove the Great Orb of Morag, but if he is seeking powerful artefacts then the strangeness on Arnten Seven may indicate another one.”

“Another Great Orb?” Tofer asked.

Eitri inclined his head. “Not necessarily, but certainly something along those lines.”

“Thank you for your information,” Brokkr said.

“Yes, thank you. If you remember anything else please let us know, you never know what could prove to be important,” Eitri added.

As soon as the two men left, Brokkr turned to Eitri and said “Another energy gem?”

“Perhaps. Morag’s Great Orb generates power at a constant rate and has done since our grandfather was a child,” Eitri said. “It is more than enough to destroy a whole realm if harnessed correctly.”

“Shifting realities may indicate a source of power that isn’t being used,” Brokkr mused.

“I suspect the nature of the energy gem – if that is what we are dealing with – lends itself to changes in reality. I know of three such gems and they are all different in their expression but identical in their unlimited power,” Eitri said. “A weapon that makes use of shifting realities is the last thing I would want in Malekith’s hands.”

“We should go to Arnten Seven ourselves and retrieve the gem, if that’s what it is,” Brokkr said. “Better in our hands than anyone else’s.”

Eitri looked reluctant. “We are craftsmen, we are not warriors,” he said.

“Do we need to be warriors to retrieve an artefact?” Brokkr countered. 

“Perhaps,” Eitri said. “We have no way of knowing what kind of reality shifts this thing is creating. Someone with the training and skill to survive such challenges would be preferred.”

“I’ll go by myself if I have to,” Brokkr said.

“You most certainly will not,” Eitri said. “But perhaps we can hire someone to retrieve it for us, or to accompany a few of us.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Brokkr asked.

“Prince Norbleen of Vanaheim is an accomplished adventurer,” Eitri said. “So is Prince Odin.”

“Absolutely not!” Brokkr said at once. “Odin will tell his father and Bor will claim the prize for himself, you know he will.”

Eitri inclined his head to acknowledge Brokkr’s point. “I’m not certain whether we shouldn’t tell Asgard anyway,” he said. “If Malekith is still planning to attack them then they should know about this development.”

“If we take the artefact first then there is no update to tell them,” Brokkr said. “Prince Norbleen will tell his father, his father will tell Bor. I would prefer to hire someone from beyond the nine realms if you feel we need the help.”

“Who would you suggest?” Eitri asked.

Brokkr paused and thought. “I know of someone, a rogue-like man, he can be hired.”

“Can you trust him not to betray you?” Eitri asked.

Brokkr smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, otherwise I would not suggest him. He is from one of the liberated worlds, Salkua, and he is motivated by money, but has honour. He will not betray a client because otherwise his reputation will be ruined. I will contact him at once with your permission?”

Eitri hesitated. “I still feel telling Asgard that Malekith is ramping up his threat is the right thing to do,” he said.

“Write them another letter, Brother, _after_ I have returned. That way they will be informed, but Bor won’t be able to demand the gem,” Brokkr suggested.

“Very well, go and engage your rogue. Just make sure you stay safe, Brother,” Eitri said.

Brokkr gave him a broad smile and bowed deeply. “I promise not to put myself in harm’s way,” he said.

Eitri waited until Brokkr had left before he pulled out his paper and pen and drafted a letter to King Bor. If he was lucky, Bor would send warriors of his own to take the gem before Brokkr got anywhere near it. 

Despite hating Hela with all his heart and not being overly fond of King Bor’s brash and hot-headed nature, Eitri had no quarrel with Asgard as a realm. They did not deserve the label of ‘villain’ that Brokkr had placed on them, and at the very least they had several extremely powerful weapons that in their possession that they had never once used against the other eight realms. Asgard knew how to handle such things. 

He finished the letter and summoned his secretary. “Send this to King Bor immediately,” he said.

****

Brokkr left Eitri’s office hand headed for his own private rooms. Once inside and alone he drafted a communication of his own and sent it off via the sub-space communication system favoured by the traders and travellers of the stars. Within half an hour he had received a reply in the form of a direct communication, and accepted the request.

“Hello Brokkr, I understand you wish to engage my services?” Tenzir, the rogue from Salkua said on his screen.

“Yes. I have two jobs for you,” Brokkr said. “The first one is that I need you to come and pick me up and take me somewhere where I can lie low for about six weeks. You will also need to remain hidden.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Tenzir asked. 

“I told my brother I was going on a quest, but I have no intention of putting myself in such danger,” Brokkr said. 

“So you intend to report a failure to him upon your return?” Tenzir asked.

“Yes,” Brokkr said. “The second job I will need you to perform for me while I am in hiding. You must be discrete of course.”

“Of course,” Tenzir said. “And what do you need me to do?”

“Deliver a message to a Titan,” Brokkr said. “There is an artefact I think he will be interested in, and I want him to know that the Dwarves are not his enemy, Asgard is.”

“You know my rates?” Tenzir asked.

“I do, I will pay you double for both these jobs, upon successful completion.”

Tenzir nodded once. “Then I accept.”


	55. The Message Received

Hela was lurking in the tree garden, half-hidden behind a tall oak, while Nal knelt at the base of the dead Home’s Shelter tree and carefully dug a soil sample out form the base.

“I don’t understand,” she said to the gardener who had accompanied her. “It was doing so well.”

“I don’t understand it either, your Grace. It was doing just fine yesterday, and didn’t have so much as a single sign of disease,” he said. “Now it’s not just dead, it’s a husk. Look here.” He took hold of a branch the width of his arm and pulled. The entire branch snapped away instantly. “It’s completely brittle, I reckon the whole tree wouldn’t weight more than you do, if we dig it all up,” he said.

Nal carefully sealed the soil sample and sat back with a frown. “I hope it’s not some kind of new disease,” she said. “Something like this could devastate Asgard’s crops if it got out to the farms.”

Hela slinked out from behind the tree and walked over to them. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“The tree is dead,” Nal said. “We’re trying to work out why.”

Hela made a show of examining the tree. “It looks like all of its life-energy has been pushed out of it,” she said.

“Life-energy? What is that, like a mortal’s life-force?” Nal asked.

Hela shook her head. “Life-energy is in all of us, life-force is… mortal, I never really paid attention to the difference. When _you_ die what really happens is enough of your important cells die that your soul can no longer stay in your body and leaves, but the rest of the cells are still in the process of dying. One by one they lose their life-energy until it all ceases. This tree looks like something forced that to happen all at once.”

“What can do that?” Nal asked, rising to her feet.

Hela shrugged. “Lava hitting you – although that doesn’t leave any husk behind, magic is the most likely candidate, it can hit every cell at once under the right circumstances.”

“I’ll ask Anima to take a look at the tree then,” Nal said immediately. “Thank you, Hela.”

Hela blinked in surprise, she was not used to being thanked. “That’s… that’s fine,” she said awkwardly.

She turned away from the tree only to find Loki standing inches from her face.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“To talk, Hela darling, just to talk,” he said pleasantly.

Hela raised an eyebrow and gestured to where the stone supports of the palace made a series of secluded archways. “Very well,” she said.

Loki gave Nal a quick wave and walked with Hela across the lawn. “Why are you here?” he asked her.

“Where else should I be?” Hela countered.

“Where should you be? Other than in a garden that – with one glaring exception – is teeming with life?” Loki said. “Anywhere else I should think. But no, you came back to the scene of the crime, and you rather cleverly steered the investigation towards the magical rather than the god-like.”

Hela turned and stared at him in alarm. “You saw,” she hissed.

“I saw, and I wondered, and now I’m investigating,” Loki said. “You called on Yggdrasil, didn’t you? That wasn’t magic that you used, at least, not the kind seidr is made of.”

Hela scowled. “Are you planning to tell Nal?” she asked.

“Don’t you think she has a right to know what happened?” Loki said.

“It was an accident,” Hela said. “I didn’t know I was going to do that, it just happened.”

“You lost control over yourself and forced instant death onto a living being,” Loki said. “That’s not the kind of accident that can be dismissed easily.”

“Am I cursed by you to always do everything wrong?” Hela snapped. “You told me once that I could act any way I chose as long as I faced the consequences.”

“And have you? You did this and immediately tried to steer those consequences away from you. This is the opposite of what I told you,” Loki said. “Destroying your sister’s things warrants an apology.”

“You care about them far more than you do me,” Hela said.

“I care about you all equally, I _like_ them more than I do you,” Loki corrected. “You make it hard for me to like you, Hela, you make it hard for anyone to like you.”

“Why do you even care if I’m liked?” Hela asked him.

“Because you will one day be queen of Asgard, and I made this realm my home,” Loki said.

“Nobody wants me to be the queen,” Hela said, sounding slightly hurt. “Daianya called me cancer, King Bor keeps pushing her forwards as well, only Father seems to think I can be a queen.”

“If you listened to his lessons and actually applied them then more people would have faith in you,” Loki said. “At the very least you could try and replace what you killed.”

“How? I don’t know where that tree came from,” Hela said.

“Ask Nal,” Loki said. “Ask her when you apologise for killing the last one.”

“No,” Hela said. “You can tell on me if you like but I won’t tell her myself. I don’t even like her.”

Loki sighed softly. “You asked why people didn’t have faith in you, Hela, well right here and now is one of the reasons why.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to criticise me,” Hela said menacingly. “After all, physical weapons and miraculous escapes are one thing, but I doubt even you could survive having your entire cellular structure die at once.”

Loki responded by cracking his knuckles and stretching his shoulders back. “Bring it,” he said with a smile.

Hela waved her arm at him, but nothing happened.

Loki grinned. “Maybe one day you will master such power, Hela darling, but right now I’d place my future castle on you only summoning such a thing in uncontrolled outbursts. Perhaps you will remain that way forever, given how much you dislike keeping control over yourself.”

Hela summoned a sword and glared at him. “Maybe you are right, maybe not, but right here and now, we are alone, and I am sick of the sight of you,” she said.

“Princess Hela!”

They paused, Hela in the act of drawing back her sword and Loki in the act of raising some magic in defence.

“Princess Hela!”

“She’s in here!” Loki yelled back quickly, giving Hela a mocking grin as she glared at him.

The voice belonged to one of King Bor’s secretaries, who stepped into the alcove where they were and gave her a bow. “King Bor wishes to see you at once, your Grace,” he said.

“Lucky me,” Loki said.

Hela glanced between the secretary and Loki, before huffing in annoyance and stalking out of the alcove toward the palace. “Did he say why?” she asked.

“No, your Grace, just that you were to come immediately,” the secretary said, jogging to keep up with her.

****

Hela reached Bor’s office at the same time as Odin, who gave her a nod of greeting as they entered and approached his desk. Bor was working his way through a pile of papers with a serious look on his face. He glanced up at them and gestured to the chairs on the other side of the desk. 

“A have received a letter which concerns me,” he said. “Eitri has informed me that a Dark Elf was arrested on Morag for trying to steal their Great Orb, or something like that. Here, read it.”

“Eitri sent you a warning? Do you think he’s softening his stance towards Asgard?” Odin asked.

“No idea, don’t really care either, but he feels we are the best realm to take care of something like this, and that’s all that matters,” Bor said.

He handed a letter to Odin who read it quickly before handing it to Hela. She read over it and frowned. “It says the Elf wanted to go to a system called Arnten Seven to seek a potential rival to the Great Orb’s power.”

“Yes. If that’s true then we need to get to it first. Malekith cannot have something with that level of power, he _will_ use it for evil,” Bor said.

“What does the Great Orb do?” Hela asked.

“It powers the entire planet of Morag,” Odin said. “Somehow it generates infinite power without any known mechanism.”

“Like the tesseract,” Hela said.

There was a pause in the room as Odin realised what she was saying. 

“Another Infinity Stone,” he said. “The Great Orb may well be another infinity stone.”

“And this artefact on Arnten Seven may be another,” Bor said. “Eitri said it was rumoured to be a place of shifting realities.”

“Based on Eitri’s letter, if it is another Infinity Stone then I would guess it’s the Reality Stone,” Odin said. “Warping everything around it sounds more like that than any other.”

“I want you two to go and fetch it before Malekith has the chance to send more Dark Elves. The Great Orb would be quite the prize as well, but as long as it is safely guarded on Morag then I don’t intend to worry about it. Leave today and bring me back this reality warping artefact,” Bor said. “If it’s the Reality Stone then that’s just a bonus, but the most important thing right now is ensuring that – whatever it is – it doesn’t land in the hands of Malekith.”

Odin nodded and rose from his seat. Hela mirrored him with a smile, a chance to get out of Asgard for a while sounded like just the thing to help calm her impulses.

****

Anima knocked gently on the door and waited for Bestla to call out before entering her grandmother’s chambers. She pulled on the giant coat of Drapht fur and made her way to the pool where Bestla sat.

“Hello Grandmother,” Anima said, settling herself down at the edge of the pool. “How are you?”

“Well enough, my dear, and yourself?” Bestla asked.

Anima shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“The healers told me that you have been spending more and more time with them lately,” Bestla said. “Have you decided to join them?”

“Not exactly,” Anima said. “Healing spells are extremely useful, but it was the regeneration spells that I was studying. I figured out how to reverse my own aging, but the spell has to be cast every few months to keep working. I was trying to find out if there was a way to anchor it to a crystal or a gem, so that it could be continually cast forever.”

“That would rival the juices of Idunn’s apples, if you figured that out,” Bestla said. “Right now those spells are for repairing organ function and worn joints, and they don’t work perfectly, believe me I know.”

Anima shifted from the floor and gave Bestla a hug. “I wish I could make them work better for you,” she said. “Then you could be young again.”

“If you did it for me then you would have to do it for everyone,” Bestla said. “And sometimes that’s not always a good thing. Aging is a part of change, and change is not always bad.”

Anima shrugged. “Change might not be bad, but as far as I can see aging definitely is. Slowing down, aching joints, sleeping less but being tired more.”

Bestla sighed. “You make a very compelling point,” she said.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Anima said. “But it has nothing to do with healing spells.”

“What is it, my dear?”

“Do you know any of the sagas from Jotunheim about Ragnarok?” Anima asked. “I’ve gone through every scroll and book I could find on the subject, and then I spoke to Loki, and what he said contradicted everything I read. I have also done a lot of my own investigations recently and frankly, I can’t tell what is going on.”

“What do you mean, investigations?” Bestla asked her.

Anima shrugged awkwardly. “I may have gone right to the edge of Asgard and hung over the side a bit, to examine the magic there.”

“My dear that is very dangerous!” Bestla exclaimed.

“I know, but there was no other way to see,” Anima said.

“You aren’t planning to go back again, are you?” Bestla asked.

Anima glanced awkwardly to the side. “Maybe,” she said. “But please, Grandmother, tell me what you know. I’ve been compiling a new book with all the different theories in it, and I want to include everything I can.”

Bestla let out a slow breath. “What I know, I learned from my mother, who learned from her mother, who learned from hers, and so it goes back through our mothers for twenty one generations. As you can imagine, there is a lot of room for error.”

“That doesn’t matter, I still want to know,” Anima said. 

“Asgard is destroyed and reborn anew every twenty generations or so,” Bestla said. “Ragnarok is a cycle of death and rebirth. Asgard spends most of its time as a realm building up to be something impressive and grand, before falling to its own hubris. Sutur’s crown triggers Ragnarok to begin, and the last time it happened it was done by a long-forgotten god, who stole the crown from Sutur’s head in a fit of rage against Asgard’s king, who had grown arrogant and cruel. Once the crown touched the eternal flame, Sutur was reborn as big as a mountain, an unstoppable force which cut deep into the heart of Asgard and tore it to pieces. The god and the seer took the survivors and travelled to a new place, this place, which the god claimed for the people. They in turn vowed never again to allow the corruption which had turned the old king’s head and made him cruel.”

“I feel as though that vow has been broken a few times,” Anima said.”

“Oh yes. There have been some very cruel kings,” Bestla said. “My father-in-law was a dreadful man, I was not unhappy when he died and my husband took the throne. Bor and I may not be a close marriage, but he has never been deliberately cruel.”

“And the god was forgotten?” Anima clarified. “Their name and that of the Seer were lost?”

“Time takes away so many things,” Bestla said. “Especially memories. The god was locked in a cage by the king, or so the story goes. Beaten daily, starved, tortured. When he escaped there was a hunt for him which lasted seventy years, during which time the king grew more and more paranoid that the god would return and destroy him. As is turns out he was right. And the true name of the god was indeed lost to time, but the stories say that he was known as the Mischief-Maker.” 

“The Mischief-Maker? As in a God of Mischief? Or just a nickname?” Anima asked. “What kind of a god is a God of Mischief anyway?”

Bestla shrugged. “Perhaps he just liked playing pranks, like Loki does, or perhaps the meaning of the work ‘mischief’ has changed over time. Perhaps it was something else and it got mixed up in the telling? Who knows, my dear, it was so long ago.”

“I want to know,” Anima said. “I don’t like the idea of it remaining a mystery.”

“You may have to reconcile yourself to never knowing,” Bestla said. “Not everything will be explained in your life, some things that are lost will never be found again.”

“I wish I could find someone old enough to have witnessed it,” Anima said. “I’ll bet there’s a few Beings on Yggdrasil who were there.”

“And I strongly advise against you seeking them. Beings that powerful tend not to want to talk to mortals, or even giants or Asgardians. They are beyond us,” Bestla said.

Anima shrugged. “I won’t know unless I try, but I promise that I will work on my protective seidr first.”

“Seidr won’t help you against the power of Yggdrasil,” Bestla said. “It creates seidr; it can create beings immune to it. If you do decide to seek Beings of that level, I suggest you take your father and Loki at the very least. Two powerful gods should at least be able to protect you if the ones you seek take offense.”

“Father barely has time for anything as it is,” Anima said. “But Uncle Loki would think it a wonderful adventure.”

Bestla gave her a shrewd look. “And that is exactly why you ought to bring your father, dear, Loki is powerful, but far too impulsive to trust on a journey like this alone.”

Anima sighed in disappointment. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll wait.”

“Why do you want to know what happened so badly?” Bestla asked her. “You never showed an interest in Asgard as a realm when you were taking lessons.”

Anima leaned out and trailed her fingers in the water of the pool. “Five years ago I had a choice to make. Either I go and live my life with Senan on Midgard, and never again visit Asgard, or I could let him go and stay here. I chose to stay, and even now I wonder why. I thought perhaps I was just shallow, and liked my bed and the food and being a princess, then I thought I was seeking intellectual gain which I could never do on Midgard. I thought very strongly that it was my family, and that I couldn’t let them go. But none of those reasons feel right. I stayed because I felt compelled to stay. I stayed because Asgard is calling for me to remain, and I would like to know why. Ever since I heard about Ragnarok I feel as though it has something to do with that, but I still don’t know what.”

“Perhaps it is you who is meant to place Surtur’s crown in the Eternal Flame this time?” Bestla suggested playfully. 

“I would never do it,” Anima said immediately. “I can’t imagine a single scenario in which I could bring myself to destroy my home.”

“Everyone has a path to walk in life that was decided by Yggdrasil. If you feel compelled to stay here then it must have a reason,” Bestla said.

“What reason?” Anima asked. “And why would Yggdrasil take such an interest? I’m always being told that we are as important to Yggdrasil as a cell in my body is to me. I certainly don’t knowingly assign individual cells with performing tasks for me. My blood cells do not have destinies, my skin cells are not sent on quests.”

“Very true, but when it comes to things like gods there is always one with the power that is needed at just the right time,” Bestla said. “No doubt that holds true for mortals as well, although I imagine it is harder to spot. Yggdrasil knows things on a level of existence that we will never reach. Its reasons do not have to make sense to us. You were born here, a mortal with powerful magical skill, and you feel as though you must stay. Perhaps Yggdrasil knows something we do not?”

Anima flicked at the water again. “I wish it would just tell me so I can do it and move on with my life,” she grumbled.

Bestla laughed. “You are not the first to make that wish and you will not be the last,” she said.


	56. A Child of War

Nal spent the remainder of the day carefully digging out the roots of the dead Home’s Shelter tree. The feel of the pickaxe swinging down and hitting the dirt was cathartic. Nal hated losing a plant, especially one which had such an unusual and rare quality to it.

If she could cry, she would have done so already. Instead she just gritted her teeth, swung her pickaxe, and ignored the stinging feeling that caused her eyes to burn and ache.

She was only a quarter done by sunset, such was the extent of the last seven years of growth. She was tired, her arms ached, but she wanted it removed in case Hela had been wrong and whatever had caused it to die was capable of spreading to other plants.

She sighed heavily as the last part of the sun dipped below the horizon; she would have to start again tomorrow.

“Long day?” said a voice from behind her.

“Very,” she said, turning to see Loki standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry about the tree,” he said.

“It was doing so well,” Nal said, turning back to where the husk sat. “It had started to lift from the ground, I could crawl underneath, and almost the whole way through. Another few months and that gap on the far side would have been big enough.” She threw her pickaxe to the ground with a noise of frustration. “I cared for it. I loved it. I did everything right! What _happened?_ ”

Loki took a deep breath inwards, then let it out slowly. “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps Anima will be able to figure it out and trace the cause back to the source.”

Nal winced as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “I hate not being able to cry,” she said. “All day I’ve wanted to, but it stings so badly that I stop. I’m upset, Loki, I’m really upset, and I can’t show it.”

“I wish I could fix this for you,” Loki said. “Do you know where the tree is from? Mabye you can get a replacement?”

Nal shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said. “I bought it from a trader that day I was attacked. He’s been back since, but not often, and I’ve never seen him with another sapling.”

Loki nodded slowly in understanding. “Perhaps the next time he comes back you can ask him,” he said gently. “But right now I think you need to take a break. Come to the feast and eat something, the light’s gone anyway and you’ll need food if you want to spend the next week digging out the roots.”

Nal looked down at the hole she’s dug. “It made it so far,” she said softly. “I think I’ll go to bed, Loki, I don’t much feel like feasting. But I’ll ask them to send me up something to eat, I promise.”

Loki smiled a smile of fond surrender. “Are you really going to make me _work?_ ” he asked.

Nal frowned in puzzlement as he reached down and picked up the pickaxe. He held out a hand and a hundred tiny flickering lights swirled out from his palm to hang in the air of the garden like floating fireflies. Then he wound up and swung the pickaxe down against the dirt.

“I don’t perform manual labour for just anyone, you know,” he said, swinging again. “If you go and organise dinner, I’ll man the pickaxe and we’ll take it in turns to shovel. With any luck we’ll be done in a couple of days.”

Nal turned away and headed towards the palace to find a servant. Her eyes were stinging in pain again, but she didn’t mind it as much with the sound of the pickaxe hitting the dirt echoing in her ears. 

She headed inside and down the corridors until she found a kitchen servant. “Can you please ask the kitchens to send dinner enough for two out to the tree garden?” she asked him.

He nodded and walked away. Job done, she turned to head back out to the garden when she heard a smothered giggle.

“Your Grace,” said the voice of a Lord’s son, Graythor Mangusson. He was accompanied by half a dozen of his friends. 

“Graythor,” she greeted politely, going to walk past him.

“Are you having a romantic evening in the garden?” he asked, as his friends struggled to keep straight faces.

“No,” Nal said.

“Oh good, because if you _were_ having a romantic evening in the garden, then I feel it would be my duty to tell you that you have dirt all over your dress,” Graythor continued.

“I am aware,” Nal said, walking away from the group.

“No man wants a dirty Jotun as a bride,” mumbled one of Graythor’s friends. Nal pressed her lips together tightly and kept walking. 

“Hey, is it getting cold in here?” one of them asked as she walked away.

“No, shut up, it’s just your stupid imagination,” Graythor answered.

The temperature of the corridor had indeed begun to drop as Nal felt the cold call to her, whispering and beguiling like an old friend. She pushed it away with an effort and the sudden chill lifted.

“See, just a draft,” Graythor said.

Nal turned the corner and heard them burst out into laughter. For a moment she paused and really considered the consequences of turning back and just… and just what? Berating them? Reporting them to her father? Odin had left Asgard a few hours ago on a mission from the king anyway, and while Bor would be furious that someone – anyone – insulted a member of his family, actually being able to speak to him long enough to report it was difficult at the best of times.

Besides, what she really wanted to do, in her cold, icy heart, was freeze them to death. Nal didn’t want to admit it, but the call she felt towards the cold was a harsh one, wanting destruction and suffering. Sometimes, when people were being especially stupid, she felt she understood Hela just a little bit more than she would like to.

Instead she started walking again, ignoring the sounds of bullying merriment and leaving them behind her. They didn’t matter anyway, they were just stupid youths with equally stupid senses of humour.

By the time she had returned to the garden, Loki had made a small amount of progress with the pickaxe. Loose dirt lay at the bottom of the hole as he swung over and over again.

“I’ll get the shovel and start filling the barrow,” Nal said.

“You know you could have asked the gardeners to help,” Loki said, already starting to sweat.

“And deprive you of a chance to show off your digging skills?” Nal answered him.

“I am the God of Digging,” he conceded, and swung again.

She grabbed the shovel and began to heave the loose dirt up out of the hole and into the waiting barrow. Loki kept on swinging with the pickaxe, working in silence until the food arrived.

“Come on,” he said. “You’ve been working a lot longer than me, have something to eat and then I’ll keep going breaking up this soil while you have a bit of a rest.”

Nal’s arms were aching badly, so she conceded more readily than she wold have done earlier. They sat in the light of Loki’s spell and dined on cuts of roasted chicken and vegetables.

Loki jumped up again as soon as he was done and picked up the pickaxe. “You rest for a bit,” he told her again and went back to work. The sound of the pickaxe hitting the ground in a rhythmic thump began to slowly sooth her until her head dipped downward and she fell asleep.

She was woken by Loki gently touching her shoulder.

“Wake up, my Princess, you can’t stay out here all night,” he said.

His brow was covered in sweat and dirt, and he was breathing slightly heavily from his hard work. Nal pushed herself up and looked at the hole, which was now significantly bigger. The dead roots of the tree were almost half exposed.

“I’ll start moving the soil,” she said.

“Or we could both go to bed and come back in the morning,” Loki said. “We may be Jotun, and we may not need quite as much sleep as our Asgardian friends, but we still need _some,_ especially if we intend to keep this up until it is done.”

Nal sighed reluctantly, but climbed to her feet and turned away from the tree.

“I’ll be back out here at first light,” she said.

“I don’t doubt it,” Loki answered.

****

Hela sat beside her father as he entered the coordinates for Arnten Seven and they made the first of what would be eighty three wormhole jumps in total. 

“What kind of weapon would Malekith make with a stone that warps reality?” Hela asked. “With literally any result at his command, what would he choose?”

“Darkness, most likely,” Odin said. “Svartalfheim is located in a region of space which is almost completely corroded with dark matter. The only source of visible light is a black hole, which as you can imagine, makes them sensitive to most outside world environments. If he could change that however, turn all the nine realms dark, that would be catastrophic for the rest of us.”

“He would still need a large fleet of ships and a vast army to take him from realm to realm without being destroyed,” Hela said.

“It is possible – likely in fact – that he is building up his army even now,” Odin said. “Our spies have evidence that he is leaning that way.”

Hela frowned. “I didn’t know about that,” she said.

“It was in the meeting yesterday morning, you missed it because you had an execution scheduled,” Odin said, a slight amount of disapproval in his voice.

Hela outed. “I came as soon as it was done, but the meeting had finished,” she said. “I was just in time to hear Daianya call me cancer, which I suppose isn’t a matter of realm security, but it seemed important to _me_.”

Odin winced slightly. “Hela – ” he began.

“Are you and King Bor planning to replace me?” Hela asked. “I know King Bor prefers Daianya, he’s always praising her and encouraging her, and he hasn’t sent her to Vanaheim, even though she’s not aging anymore and there’s no reason not to send her!”

Odin shook his head. “Hela, listen to me, please. I sit on the security councils of Asgard. I visit the fields and take tours of our cities. I sign minor orders in my father’s name, but am I the King?”

“No,” Hela said.

“No. I am the Crown Prince. But I do the work of a king, sometimes, with my father’s approval, because I am my father’s heir. Daianya is _your_ heir, until you have a child of your own. And knowing what we do about your… feelings regarding the creation of life, Father and I thought you might decline to have a child. If that’s true then Daianya’s children will inherit the throne through her. She cannot go to Vanaheim, that would make her children the heirs to the throne of two realms. That would cause all kinds of conflict between us.”

“Daianya is in training to be queen after me?” Hela asked.

“As of right now, yes she is,” Odin said. “You are my heir, Hela, my eldest daughter, and future crown princess.”

Hela turned to look out at the stars as they came out of their third jump and Odin set up the next one. “I don’t want to carry – ugh – life inside of me,” she said. “But what if I adopted instead?”

Odin’s hands paused for a fraction of a second on the control panel before he continued entering in the instructions. “If you adopted then your child would be your heir,” he said.

“There is no objection? Nothing in the law that stops it?” Hela asked.

“No. Nothing has been written, although I do not believe it has ever occurred,” Odin said.

Hela smiled. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I will find a child and adopt them, and they shall be my heir. Daianya can go to Vanaheim after all and strengthen our ties there. Nal will be sent to Jotunheim as soon as King Grundroth convinces King Bor to let her go, and Anima… is there a King of Midgard?”

Odin allowed himself a slow, calming breath. “There is no king of Midgard,” he said.

“I don’t suppose she’d enjoy Muspelheim?” Hela said. “It’s very hot, but with her magic I’m sure she could overcome it, and Sutur could use some buttering up. We don’t want him to get angry at us and start Ragnarok.” She appeared to notice that Odin’s shoulders had grown stiff. “What have I don’t wrong _now?_ ” she asked.

“Nothing, technically. Your analysis of the situation was very clear and very political, however I can’t help but notice how… dispassionate you are, Hela. They are your sisters, your family, do you feel nothing for them at all?” Odin asked, looking at her in concern. “I know Father wants to send Nal to Jotunheim and I know I cannot stop him – it may even be in the best interests of Asgard – but she’s still my daughter and I don’t want her to be married to a man older than my father. I _feel_ upset about this… do you?”

Hela looked back out at the stars again. The truth was she didn’t feel anything other than annoyance at the presence of her sisters. Daianya most of all, but Anima was irritating the way she was so effortlessly their father’s favourite. Odin may try to hide it, but Hela could tell, anyone with eyes could tell with how much he spoiled his youngest. Nal was… tolerable, more so than the other two, but only because she stayed out of Hela’s way for the most part and occasionally displayed a hint of chilly demeanour that hinted at a possible mean streak. 

“I don’t feel things the way you do,” she said at last. “They were only born thirty two years ago, and I was away at war. By the time I came back they were talking, and had _opinions_. They were still children but then I blinked and suddenly I have three adult sisters running around the palace learning things and touching things. It was better when we were at war. King Bor, you and I would sit in the command centre and discuss battle strategies. I was _good_ at battle strategies, neither of you were ever disappointed in me, and you _are_ , Father, you keep giving that look like you are waiting for me to turn into someone else, someone more like my _sister_.”

Odin was silent. Hela kept looking out the window, until she realised that he hadn’t entered in the next set of commands. She glanced across at him, and saw him looking at her sadly. She turned her head away quickly, pressing her lips together to stop them from trembling.

“I’m sorry, Hela,” Odin said softly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I should have realised that things weren’t alright. You celebrated your coming of age feast on the battlefield. You were only out there because we needed every powerful person we had and you were so close to adulthood that I thought it would be alright. You excelled so well and adjusted quickly to a life of hard battles and difficult choices, but I never thought that you would struggle to come home again,” Odin said.

“I was your only daughter for a thousand years,” Hela said. “I made you proud against the Titans, I know I did.”

“Yes you did,” Odin said. “You are a war hero and a great warrior. I am the one who failed when we returned. I thought you would slide into a life of peace easily, but you never had the chance to be an adult, with adult freedoms, before the war began. You gained three rapidly maturing sisters, and at the time I wanted to spend what little time I had with them before they became adults. I failed to see that you needed me as much as they did.”

“So you and King Bor are not planning to replace me as your heir?” Hela asked.

“No,” Odin said. “There are still things you need to learn about being a leader, but I know you can do it, and I will help you. It will be millennia before you take the throne, we have plenty of time.”

“When I become queen one day, will Daianya – assuming I don’t adopt – will she work for me the way you do for the king now?” Hela asked.

“I hope so,” Odin said. “I would like to think that my children will work together to keep Asgard safe and harmonious.”

Hela looked out at the stars again, but this time her expression was thoughtful. “Does that mean I can do all the commanding parts of ruling like King Bor does, and Daianya can do the paperwork?” she asked.

“Personally I wouldn’t recommend it, but I suppose so,” Odin conceded.

Hela looked at him and gave him a smile. “Maybe just the really boring paperwork?” she said.

Odin chuckled, and she did too a second later as the tension broke. Odin entered the coordinates for the next jump. “We’ve been sitting long enough to recharge back to full,” he said. 

“How many jumps can this thing do before we’re forced to sit still?” Hela asked.

“Ten,” Odin said. “We’ll be at Arnten Seven in just over a week.”


	57. An Escape, and a Tiny Miracle

Algrim sat in silence in his jail cell. Eyes closed, legs crossed as though he was meditating. His jailers did not know how badly the light hurt his eyes because he refused to flinch, or show any signs of discomfort at all. The guards had taken his mask from his, stripping him of his protection from the harsh lighting favoured by the people of Morag, but he had refused to speak even to complain. One day he would track down the Dwarf Tofer and kill him for his interference, but not before he completed his quest for his king. Fulfilling Malekith’s wishes were all he valued in life; his loyalty as unquestionable.

There was the sound of footsteps clanging down the corridor outside; a guard coming to deliver todays meal. Algrim remained still, waiting. 

The noise got closer and became the sound of someone opening the small hatch which allowed the guards to slide the food inside. Algrim waited patiently.

The hatch swung up and the guard made a sigh of annoyance. Algrim had placed the previous day’s tray in the way after refusing to return it at the designated time. He listened as the guard put the full tray down outside the door and reached in to hook his fingers over the lip of the empty tray inside. 

Algrim moved, leaping from the bed where he sat and grabbing the guard’s wrist as it poked through the hatch. He pulled hard and upward and heard the sound of the guard’s bone snapping, followed by a scream. Algrim then breathed in deeply, maintaining the calm of his mind. He was not the greatest at Dark Elf seidr – one of the reasons he had gone into the army instead of becoming a sorcerer – but he had some innate skill, all Dark Elves did.

The lights in the complex went out.

Algrim took another slow breath and phased from one shadow to another, stepping out into the corridor in which the guard lay whimpering.

Algrim looked around him. The lights would be back soon, but for now he could see perfectly as everyone else was blind. He reached down and grabbed the access card from the guard and fled down the corridor. His head was hurting from summoning seidr, and he needed to make his escape quickly so that he could rest.

He opened the door at the far end and ran through, dodging past two guards who were leaning against the nearest walls so as to try and get their bearings. He briefly considered killing them but it would take too long. He went through the next door, and the next, headed further and further outward until he heard the sound of power buzzing and realised the lights were about to switch back on.

He dove into the nearest room and ducked into a storage closet. It had uniforms hanging in it. He crouched down as outside the lights switched back on, turning the world once again into a painful and harsh place.

The closet was dark, dark enough for more magical movement, as long as he was left alone long enough to rest for a while.

The Great Orb would not be possible, he decided while he sat and waited for his energy to return. It was too well guarded, too valued, and its removal would be instantly noticeable. No, he would have to head to Arnten Seven and see what he could make of the artefact there.

An hour later, Algrim summoned more seidr and cast his mind into the shadows. He could only go to places in darkness, and for safety’s sake elves rarely travelled to places that hadn’t already seen once before. Algrim needed his ship back – or someone’s ship anyway – and so he sought out a place on the trading station, a place with deep shadows.

He appeared at the back of the storeroom of Mardo’s shop, where a few weeks ago he had been caught due to the actions of the Dwarf Tofer, and Mardo himself of course.

Algrim crept through the dimly lit storeroom until he reached a place tucked away between boxes where he could safely wait until nightfall. He didn’t know what had happened to his protective mask or weapons, but it didn’t matter. Mardo was not a difficult target to subdue should he discover Algrim’s hiding place.

It was several hours later before Mardo closed up his shop. Algrim heard the sound of the front door being closed and locked, followed by the low beeping sound of Mardo finishing his paperwork.

Algrim crept from behind the boxes and to the door of the storeroom. Patience was key. Patience was always key. 

Mardo walked through the door with his eyes down on the pad in front of him. He never even saw Algrim move. The blow to his neck snapped it instantly, and he fell to the floor, life already fading from his eyes.

Algrim took his time searching the shop for anything that might be useful. He found a pair of light-adjusting goggles – more typically used to see in the dark but with a high enough setting to enable him to see through strong daylight – and a set of anti-gravity devices that he felt would probably help him on a world filled with changes in reality. He also found enough precious jewels to buy passage on a ship. No doubt Algrim’s own vessel had been impounded by now, but if he could hire a small craft to take him on a journey, to the next trading station maybe, then he could hijack it once they were away and head for Arnten Seven without being tracked.

He grabbed the closest thing to a travelling bag that he could find and filled it with the items he had chosen, a change of clothes, some knifes of exceptional quality, and as many jewels as he could find. 

He left the shop and stepped out into the wider station. It was still bustling and trading, as ships could arrive at any time, but the smaller stores were all closed for their owners to get some rest.

Algrim made his way to the landing pads, confident that no one would think him to be the same as the man they had sent to the surface for processing a few weeks back. He was right, and reached the landing pads without interference.

He came upon a small craft which was unloading cargo and approached the man who seemed to be in charge.

“Greetings,” he said.

“And to you. What can I do for you?” the man asked.

“I overslept and was left behind on my way from one trading station to another,” Algrim said. “I wish to book passage with anyone heading my way. I can pay in jewels.”

The man gave him the once-over. “We’re heading to Lompath next,” he said.

“Lompath is closer than here to Grandor,” Algrim said, naming a trading station further out. He suspected the man would become suspicious if he claimed to need to go to Lompath as soon as the name was spoken.

The man was still watching him suspiciously, but then shrugged. “We’re actually going to Grandor afterwards,” he admitted. “If you can pay, you can have a bunk.”

Algrim gave him a polite bow, “Thank you very much,” he said.

“Don’t thank me until you’ve paid,” the man said.

Algrim held out his hand and showed the man a number of small rubies. “Will this be enough?” he asked.

“Will you be selling them in Grandor?” the man asked.

“That is the plan,” Algrim said.

“Then yes, I’ll hold on to them for now and send one of my men to your buyer to have them turned into credits when we reach Grandor,” he said.

Algrim bowed again. “As you wish.”

****

Anima felt as though she was going insane. For years now she had felt as though remaining on Asgard was the right thing to do, and yet now, today and yesterday, all she wanted to do was go and have an adventure.

“This is infuriating,” she said. 

“Has something changed?” Nal asked her.

“Not that I know of,” Anima said. “The last time I felt like leaving was just after our coming of age, and I was rather upset at the time. Now I don’t feel upset at all, and yet I keep daydreaming about going off somewhere, hunting among Yggdrasil’s branches, or seeing worlds out there among the stars.”

“If I knew where to find another Home’s Shelter tree I’d suggest we go and get another one,” Nal said, trying to keep the gloom out of her voice.

It had taken four days of near-constant work for Nal and Loki to dig up the entire tree. Four days of aching muscles and frustration at her loss. Now Nal and Anima were in one of the larger gardening sheds, where the husk of the dead tree had been dragged for examination.

Anima held her hands up and concentrated, trying to figure out if Hela was right about the tree being killed by magic.

“It’s very dead,” she said at last. “Every single piece of energy is gone. There’s nothing, not even a wisp. Nal, this tree has been dead for a hundred years.”

“That’s impossible,” Nal said. “It was alive last week.”

“I know, but the way it feels is of something long gone. Trees hold onto life for a long time. There have been instances of trees regrowing from their own stumps because life clung on in the roots. A tree like this shouldn’t be completely dead for months, if it were cut down.”

“Is that why the builders have to use old wood to build their structures?” Nal asked.

Anima nodded. “The residual life in the trees can cause the timber to warp and twist, so once they have been cut down they have to dry out completely to ensure they are totally dead, otherwise the buildings won’t be stable.”

“So was it magic?” Nal asked.

“I think it had to be,” Anima said. “Nothing in the physical world is capable of killing something so quickly. Not without destroying it completely as well. But the question is what kind of magic? Seidr can do it but that’s a powerful working to waste on a tree. God-power could do it if it was the right kind, but Hela can’t kill without her knives, can she?

“Hela helped me identify the problem, she wouldn’t do that if she was the problem, would she?” Nal said. She sat down dejectedly onto some sacks of mulch waiting to be spread. “She’s the only one person I know of who might have that kind of power,” she said. “Surely her real god power isn’t just summoning blades, she’d be the Goddess of Blades instead of Death if it was. I hope it wasn’t her though.”

“I kind of hope it was,” Anima admitted. “At least we know Hela; we know what we are dealing with. If this is some kind of spell then it was cast by a sorcerer, one who was in the palace gardens and who had no problem throwing their magic around.”

“When you say it like that I suppose I see your point,” Nal conceded. “But that means Hela has been experimenting with her god power in new ways, and _on my tree._ ”

The outrage in her voice made Anima wince. “I doubt she values your trees as much as you do,” she said. “But I have yet to get any proof. Leave this with me for a few days and I’ll see what I can discover.”

Nal gave her a nod and left the garden shed. She walked slowly to the hole where the tree used to sit. Loki was sitting on the edge, dangling his feet over the side.

“Did Anima find anything?” he asked her as she approached.

“Not yet, just confirmed what Hela said about it dying all in a rush,” Nal said, sitting down beside him. “She’s working on it now.”

“She’s very clever, if there’s anything to find then she’ll find it,” Loki said.

Nal surveyed the hole dejectedly. “I’m going to have to fill all this in and find something else to plant in its place,” she said.

“Something equally magnificent,” Loki said.

Nal sighed. “I wanted so badly to see it fully grown. I wanted a little cottage to put my gardening things in.”

“It’s a semi-public garden,” Loki said. “You’d need a fence to keep your things from being stolen.”

“I’d get Anima to cast a protection spell for me,” Nal said.

Loki swung his legs a few times. “I thought I might head off realm,” he said. “It’s been a while since I went travelling.”

“Where would you go?” Nal asked.

“Anywhere, and everywhere,” Loki said. “Here and there.”

“What’s that?” Nal said, squinting down into the hole. “That green?”

Loki stopped looking at the sky and turned his head downwards as she jumped down into the hole.

“It’s a little plant,” Nal said, crouching at the very bottom. 

Loki jumped down to join her. “A weed?” he asked. “They grow that fast?”

“No,” Nal said, gently tracing the tiny leave with one finger. “Loki it’s the Home’s Shelter tree. It’s a sapling!”

“Is that even possible?” Loki asked, peering at it.

“It must be, because it’s here,” Nal said. “It’s so tiny! A day’s worth of growth, no more. Stay here. Stand guard over it while I get a pot.”

“Does it need one?” Loki asked as she scrambled back up the sides. “Surely if it started growing in the ground it’ll be happy to stay there.”

“Oh no, I’m not taking any chances,” Nal said, climbing over the edge of the hole. “It’s so small a minor squall will flood it and it’ll die. I’ll take it into my greenhouse and tend to it until it’s bigger.”

She raced off in the direction of the gardening sheds, leaving Loki to stand over the tiny sapling like a bewildered sentinel.

Loki looked down at it. “You grow nice and strong now,” he said to it sternly.

****

Daianya flew through the air, flipping head over feet. Unfortunately, it was not by choice, and she hit the dirt hard a second later. She rolled and slashed upwards with her sword, catching Tarah’s blade on the downswing and forcing it back as she climbed to her feet.

Tarah circled her carefully, ignoring the watching crowd. The two women came together in a clash of metal, engaging in a series of rapid cuts and strikes, each looking for an opening, an opportunity.

Daianya saw hers and went in, cutting into Tarah’s protective armour with one of her swords, Tarah brought her own sword down at the same time, nicking Daianya’s shoulder padding.

The crowd cheered its approval as they broke apart; Daianya the victor, but Tarah a respectable opponent. 

“Well done,” Daianya said.

“Thanks, I almost had you,” Tarah said, breathing hard.

“Yes you did,” Daianya said. “I was impressed by the overhead flip, how’d you do that so hard?”

“It’s a trick my mother taught me,” Tarah said. “You use your opponent’s momentum; you wouldn’t have flown nearly as far if you hadn’t come at me so fast.”

“Can you show it to me later?” Daianya asked as they grabbed a drink of water each.

“Sure,” Tarah said, smiling.

It had been ten years since Tarah and her friends had been commanded to join Daianya’s training schedule, and the constant hard work and effort they had all put in had slowly but surely turned into respect. The absence of Tyr had allowed it to blossom further, and now it was a true friendship. Daianya had learnt a lot about Tarah’s drive to succeed. Being the eldest daughter of a renowned Valkyrie had put a lot of pressure on her, much in the way being a princess had put a lot of pressure on Daianya. 

“We’re going to the Bull’s Arms Tavern later this evening,” Tarah said. “Do you want to meet us there?”

“Sure,” Daianya said. “Sounds like fun.”

Tarah nodded at her and headed off to the baths to get clean and soak her muscles. Daianya was planning to follow when she noticed her grandmother in the crowd.

“Grandmother?” she said, heading over. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I’ll admit, fighting is not my preferred form of entertainment,” Bestla said calmly. “But you have devoted so much of your time to it that I thought I ought to come and see you train.”

Daianya gave her a hug. “I’m all done for the day, let me walk you back to your chambers, or do you want to stay outside? We can go to the garden and join Nal and Anima,” she said.

“Are they together? I’d like to see all three of you,” Bestla said.

Daianya walked with her away from the hard packed earth of the training yards and through the palace to the gardens on the far side. They reached the tree garden just as Nal climbed out of the hole which used to hold the Home’s Shelter tree.

“Hand me the pot,” she called down into the hole. “And please be careful.”

“As careful as a mother with her babe,” Loki called from below. 

A pot appeared at the edge of the hole and Nal picked it up. “Hello Grandmother,” she greeted with a smile. “Shall I call for something to eat?”

“That would be lovely, my dear. Loki, why are you covered in dirt?” Bestla asked.

A head crowned with wild, dark red hair popped up from below and he grinned at her. “I’ve been gardening,” he said.

“Loki helped Nal dig out the dead tree,” Daianya said. 

“Oh really?” Bestla asked. “And why is that?”

“I just love digging so much,” Loki said, climbing out of the hole.

“I see,” Bestla said with a smile as he straightened up and gave her a grin. “It’s a rare thing, for you to allow yourself to get so dirty.”

“I dunno,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve been covered in dirt, mud, ooze, blood, shit, slime, whatever that thing was on Arnex Prime, glitter – twice, poison ivy, a bear, another bear, feathers, bees, honey – amazingly in that order, snow, rain, passionfruit innards, and wine. I think it’s rarer for me to do so voluntarily, as that would require doing hard work on purpose.”

“Fair point,” Bestla said, still smiling at him.

Nal returned with a blanket, which she spread out on the grass. “Food’s coming,” she said. “And I asked them to bring a few pitchers of water and a basin so Loki and I can wash up.”

“Excellent,” Loki said, lying down on the grass by the blanket and putting his hands behind his head. 

Anima showed up a few minutes later. She looked happy, but thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Bestla asked her.

“Magic,” Anima said. “The same thing that’s always on my mind; different types of magic. What they mean, how they work. I think I have a pretty good idea of the type of magic that killed the tree.”

“Was it god power?” Nal asked.

Anima nodded slowly. “The traces are very distinct once you know what to look for,” she said.

“Hela?” Daianya asked.

“Hela,” Nal and Anima said gloomily.

“She should have told you,” Loki said to the sky. 

“She’s off with Father on a grand adventure,” Anima said glumly. 

“So we can’t even confront her until she gets back,” Nal added.

“You sound down, Anima dear, is it just the tree?” Bestla asked.

“No,” Anima said. “I’ve only just reconciled myself to staying on Asgard and now I feel restless, like I want to go exploring.”

“Maybe you’re jealous,” Daianya said. “I know I am. Hela gets to go with Father to a distant and bizarre world and we get left at home. I would have liked to have seen a world where shifting realities are commonplace.”

“Worlds like that will get you killed,” Loki said. “Leave it to older and wiser heads.”

“Like Hela?” Nal asked.

“She’s the older, Odin is the wiser,” Loki said.

“Hela’s younger than Father,” Anima said.

“She doesn’t have to be older than Odin, just older than you, my example was perfect,” Loki said stubbornly. “And if you want to go off and explore another world you know you only have to ask, I’ll find you somewhere exciting to visit.”

“Without permission from the king, I assume?” Bestla said.

“Of course, he’s say no to all the fun places,” Loki said.

Two servants arrived, carrying trays. The group said their thanks and Daianya, Anima and Bestla started on the sandwiches as Nal and Loki washed their hands and faces.

“Anima dear, I wrote to my sister about your new project,” Bestla said after a while. “I got a letter from her today with all she could recall about the cycle of Ragnarok. It is almost exactly as I told you, however she remembered one more detail which I had forgotten.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Anima asked.

“Before Ragnarok arrives there were warning signs, portents, that sort of thing. The last cycle was said to have been heralded by three great monsters, the birth of the Seer, of course, and Fimbulvetr, the Great Winter, a winter so harsh that all life it touches will die.”

“So before Asgard is destroyed first it will be attacked by three monsters, then it will freeze?” Anima asked. 

“It’ll become like Jotunheim?” Nal added. “A world of ice? Some plants need the cold to germinate, maybe that’s why?”

“I do not know for certain what it means. The meaning of the words may have changed over time. Certainly there will be a time of great death just prior to Ragnarok beginning,” Bestla said. “Whether that is through monsters attacking, or ice and snow, or through some other means I do not know. The last cycle had those things, this one may not.”

“I wish things could be consistent,” Anima said. “Even the stories of how each Asgard is different to the last makes doing any kind of research difficult.”

“I’d forgotten about Fimbulvetr,” Loki said, helping himself to another sandwich. “My mother told me to look out for the signs and leave Asgard if I saw any, you know, because she loves me. She said a winter that killed half or more of Asgard’s population was a sign, although I doubt I would need her warning. Anything that shows up and kills half the population is something I would like to avoid.”

“I think it’s safe to say that Ragnarok won’t be a surprise to anyone, when it happens,” Bestla said.


	58. Let Loose The God of War

The small ship shot out of the wormhole and coasted to as close as a stop as could be managed in the depths of space.

“There it is,” Odin said. “Arnten Seven.”

Hela leaned forwards and examined the view of the planet closely. “I can’t see anything special about it from this far out,” she said. “A part of me was expecting shifting ocean colours or something like that.”

“I’m running a scan for focal points of power,” Odin said. “It’s possible that the shifting is localised near the stone, in which case we won’t see anything until we land.”

Hela continued to watch as he ran the scan. “I hope we aren’t too late,” she said. “If Malekith sent a different Elf here at the same time as the one who went to Morag then they will be long gone by now, I would think.”

“We’ll deal with that if it comes to it,” Odin said. “There! On one of the southern continents, a focal point of energy. The instruments are going crazy.”

“Shifting realities,” Hela said with a smile. “Whatever it is, it’s still down there.”

Odin entered the coordinates into the controls and guided the ship into the atmosphere. “I’ll try to set us down just outside of the worst of the changes,” he said. “I’m not sure what would happen if we brought the ship in too close and left it while we went in after the stone, it might disappear, or turn into a frog.”

“Down there,” Hela said, monitoring the instruments in front of her. “There’s another ship already there.”

Odin looked over at her scanner in alarm. “That’s not a Dark Elf vessel,” he said. “We’ll set down nearby, but under cover. Whoever it is must be after the stone as well, why else would anyone come to a place like this?”

Hela scanned the ship more closely as they flew in Odin landed their own vessel. “It’s Titan,” she said at last.

Odin looked up in surprise. “Are you certain?” he asked.

“I haven’t forgotten what their vessels looked like,” Hela said. “It has to be the one who escaped. It has to be Thanos.”

“The same one who led the attack on Asgard that nearly destroyed it. If he’s here then he must be after a new weapon, something to try again,” Odin said. “We have to stop him, no matter what else happens.”

Hela grinned. Finally, a directive she could get behind.

Odin grabbed Mjolnir from where it had been quietly sitting and hooked it to his belt as he led the way out of the ship and onto the planet’s surface.

The ground was… weird. Weird was the only word for it. It looked like a sponge, but felt as slippery as ice, except when it didn’t. Every step had to be made cautiously, which made Hela growl under her breath with impatience.

The plants were no different. Spiralling arms of wood which dripped yellow pus-like substances clashed with flowers of sharpened metal. Further in they gave up on any semblance of life altogether and hung in the air, each leaf disconnected from the branches below it and yet still giving Hela every sign of life and growth.

There were large portals dotted about everywhere, promising bizarre changes to whosoever walked through. Odin carefully navigated using a combination of a hand-held scanner and his own magic. The golden light of which drifted in the air before being snatched away by winds that couldn’t be felt.

At last they reached what looked like a building that had been built by architects of a thousand different races with a thousand different ideas of how the final product should look. Unlike the world around it, it remained locked in its – admittedly bizarre – construct. 

“It’s spelled to counter the effects of the stone,” Odin said softly, his words become butterflies which flew away into the sky. “And, I believe, channel it as well.”

“He must be already inside,” Hela said. “We don’t have much time.”

Unlike Odin, her words became wasps which turned and tried to sting her. Hela slapped them all dead with a sneer of annoyance.

The building inside was thankfully free of changes in reality. The corridor was curved and slanted, but it did not move beneath them as they made their way further inwards.

They reached the central chamber just in time to watch Thanos press the last button of what seemed to be a security system. There was a rumbled around them as ancient mechanisms fired, shifting the walls and ceiling in a way that made Hela swallow hard and Odin close his eyes.

A plinth at the far end of the room appeared. Upon it sat an ornate box. It looked as though it was made of reddish wood, with decorative gemstones set across the top in a chaotic mess. Both gods felt it had to be more than it seemed. 

“There it is,” Odin whispered.

Thanos began walking across the chamber toward the box. Odin moved out of the shadows and called out. “Thanos!”

Thanos turned and sneered at the sight of him. “Prince Odin, I recognise the hammer,” he rumbled in his low voice. “I always wanted a chance to kill you.” He spotted Hela standing off to the side, half in shadow. “Hela! Goddess of Death. We meet again. I feel fortunate to have the chance to kill both of you.”

“You will not get that chance, Thanos,” Odin said calmly.

Thanos smiled and held up his right hand. Set into a thick band of metal, a yellow stone glowed.

Odin’s expression changed to one of disbelief. “Another stone?” he said.

“You know of them. I should have known,” Thanos said. “I don’t suppose you know the thief who took the Space Stone from me?”

Odin tilted his head. “No idea, but I intend to track him down once we are done here,” he lied.

Hela had been creeping closer, a knife in her hand. Thanos saw her movement and flexed his fist in Odin’s direction.

There was a glow of light from the stone in his ring and around Odin, as the Mind Stone’s power activated. “Kill your daughter,” Thanos said calmly, and turned away to retrieve the wooden box.

Odin winced hard and grabbed his head in his hands, unable to move. The power of the stone was pressing down on him, making him want to kill Hela above all other things. He straightened, and looked directly at her.

Directly at where she had been. Hela had ducked behind a pillar the second Thanos had spoken, now she circled around behind where Odin stood, searching for her.

She summoned a heavy blade in her hand and threw it at her father’s head. The hilt hit him at the base of his skull, just where the armour and helmet didn’t quite reach. Odin fell forwards and hit the ground hard.

Hela jumped from behind, landing with one foot on either side of his head. As soon as he rolled over she punched him as hard as she could, knocking him out cold.

She summoned another blade and hurled it at Thanos as he began to climb the steps up to the plinth. He ducked to the side at the last second and rolled as he hit the ground. Hela ran at him full force, summoning and throwing knifes as she went, smile already beginning to form on her face as she entered battle. No holding back. No trying to be a proper princess. In this, like no other, she could truly be herself.

Thanos barely managed to avoid her next few strikes. He tried to use the Mind Stone again but Hela struck him with blow after blow, some of which cut into his flesh and distracted him from being able to concentrate. He caught her instead with one large hand and shoved her back away from him, eyes flashing in anger as he pulled a blade from his belt and charged at her.

**** 

Algrim had landed his craft on the other side of the structure to the other two. He was concerned to see so many ships in what was supposed to be an abandoned world. He was especially concerned to see that one of those ships was Asgardian. The other he vaguely recognised, but as someone who had primarily worked as an infantry general, his exposure to Titan vessels had been low.

He heard the sounds of fighting as he approached the main chamber and grinned. Good, let them fight. Let them squabble while he made off with the prize.

He came out on a higher level than the two doing battle and surveyed the scene. The sight of the Titan surprised him, but the sight of Hela was of more importance. It was she who had the best chance of recognising him and reporting his presence here back to Bor. No one must know they had the artefact, but _especially_ Bor.

He strapped on the antigravity devices and activated them, watching closely to see if the two doing battle had time to pay attention to the plinth.

They seemed all consumed by their fight, and so he climbed over the viewing rail and began to walk down the wall towards the box below him.

A little further down and he could see a prone figure at the far side of the chamber. It wore Asgardian armour, so it seemed the Titan had taken a victim already.

The Titan and Hela were yelling at one another, threats of various kinds, accusations – Algrim didn’t care as long as they kept each other busy – but still the sound of their words filtered in as he climbed.

“You are a low creature,” the Titan said with disgust. “First you fight to destroy my people, then you join me to destroy Asgard, but he second it fails you disappear, and now you fight for Asgard again! You are a traitor of the worst kind, a disgusting liar!”

“You didn’t seem to mind when you were fucking me,” Hela snapped at him. “And of course I re-joined Asgard! You _failed_. You were supposed to give me death! You promised me more death than anything I’d ever felt before! And instead what did I get? Life flowing through all of Yggdrasil and _three new sisters_. It was only supposed to be _one_ and I didn’t even want that! You are responsible for the greatest moment of regeneration and life across the whole of the nine realms! _I despise you!_ ”

“You are insane,” Thanos snapped at her, blocking her blows as best he could. “They called me mad for suggesting a cull to help my people survive but you, you’re just crazy!”

Algrim reached the box and went to pick it up. As soon as his hand touched it he felt the power humming within. Something, a feeling, a beguiling, enchanting feeling, whispered to his soul to open the box. 

Whatever was inside wanted to be released, and Algrim was struck with the overwhelming desire to make that happen. He undid the clasp on the box, not noticing or caring that there was no lock – a strange thing to leave out on a box of such power - and opened the lid.

The power flowed into him. Red liquid of a kind he had never seen before filled his mouth, and eyes, and heart. He gasped, but the sound turned into ash and drifted to the floor.

And then it was over. The strange artefact – some kind of aether – was inside of him, and the box was now empty.

Algrim closed the lid and left it on the plinth. Let them fight for an empty box, he thought, he had the power inside of him.

He climbed back up the wall with ease, not realising that he had forgotten to turn on the antigravity devices, and made his way back to his ship. In front of him, reality shifted itself to ease his passage.

****

Odin opened his eyes and drew in a quick breath. He had been overtaken by a mind-altering form of magic, and then Hela had…? She’d punched him. Which was fair, under the circumstances. He pushed himself up and blinked hard to get his bearings. 

Hela was fighting Thanos. Both of them were slamming their weapons and fists at each other with utter fury. Hela was never without a weapon, and immune to a lot of the stabs Thanos had clearly made in her body, but Thanos was the more skilled fighter and had the strength to back it up.

Odin summoned Mjolnir to hand and started running towards them, but before he could get there, Thanos found an opening.

His blade slashed across Hela’s neck, and her head fell to the floor in a spurt of blood. Odin roared in pain and horror as her body tumbled to the floor. He charge Thanos at full speed, seeing nothing but the colour of red as it filled his vision.

Thanos made a movement with his hand again and the Mind Stone began to glow. Odin, God of War and fully connected to Yggdrasil, felt the power around him lift.

“Kill yourself,” Thanos commanded dispassionately.

“No,” Odin said in a voice that rang with the chorus of an army.

The power tried to reach him but it kept sliding away. The Mind Stone was an impressive artefact, and certainly its power was, as its name suggested, infinite, but Odin was a powerful being in his own right.

“How are you doing that?” Thanos exclaimed as Odin kept charging towards him. He braced himself as they slammed together, and Odin knocked him back underneath a stream of hard blows.

“You wield a stone imbued with mind magic, Thanos, but you do not understand it,” Odin said, ducking Thanos’ slash and ramming Mjolnir upward, forcing the Titan to fall back again. “My seidr has always held as aspect of the mind, now that I have warning I can see the shape of what you are trying to do, and I can counter it.”

Thanos jumped back, out of range of Mjolnir and clenched his fist hard. “No one can counter such power,” he growled.

Odin felt the pressure building again, but he twisted something in his mind and the power slid away.

“You are an amateur, Thanos, you wield that which you don’t understand against that which you never will. I am the God of War. I am called to strategy, to tactics, to the feint and the charge. I will find your weaknesses, and I will hammer them with my strengths, and I will win, for that is the focus of war, is it not? To win? By the power of Yggdrasil, I could no more kill myself at your command than I could turn myself inside out. I understand the concept of what you ask but right here and now I find it physically impossible.” He lunged again at Thanos, who frowned in confusion and alarm, before ducking as best he could and turning to race up the stairs to reach the box, still sitting on the plinth. Odin flung Mjolnir ahead of him, drawing his sword even as the hammer left his other hand.

Mjolnir hit Thanos from the side and knocked him away from the plinth. A second later Odin was on him, slashing in a fury, glowing faintly with the power of the gods. His eyes were hard and cold. His face was a mask of fury. Mjolnir battered Thanos over and over again without Odin having to swing it; its movements were entirely subject to the will of his mind.

Thanos managed to throw himself out of Odin’s reach, further away from the plinth. He scrambled for a blade among the many Hela had discarded, and blocked three hard blows from Odin in rapid succession. The blade snapped under the third blow. Odin’s sword was glowing as much as he was. His power was fused to it; in that moment as the full power of Yggdrasil channelled through him, he was as violent, chaotic and terrifying as war itself.

Thanos stumbled up and away, fleeing the chamber with pounding feet. He was cut in two dozen places, several bones were broken, and his legs felt weak from fear. Mjolnir continued to batter at him as he ran down the corridors and out into the world beyond the structure.

Odin almost went after him, were it not for the sight of his daughter’s head, upon which a very enraged and thoroughly alive expression could be seen, which brought him back down from the place where gods went with a crash.

He blinked in surprise, wincing as he did so; Thanos had struck him across one eye and the wound was stinging. “Hela?” he whispered. She scowled and tried to speak, but her lungs were in her body several feet away. Odin crouched down in wonder and carefully lifted her head up from the floor. “You… you’re alive,” he said in a hushed tone. Hela continued to glare, before gesturing with her mouth and eyes in a kind of pointing action toward her body. Odin carried her head over to it and set it down at the neck. “Do you need – ?” he began to ask, but broke off when her skin began to stretch downwards across the remaining gap. Once it reached and fused to the skin on her body, her head was pulled downwards to the correct place as her bones, nerves and other tissue reconnected.

“Did he get away?” she asked as soon as she could draw breath.

Odin glanced back at the exit. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “I thought you _died_. Hela, I didn’t know you could survive beheading.”

“I can survive all the other types of physical injuries,” Hela said. “I don’t see why this one should be an exception.”

Odin just shook his head. Then he wiped a hand across his eye with a wince. “He got my eye,” he muttered.

“One of these days you are going to actually lose an eye if you aren’t careful,” Hela said, turning towards the plinth. “Did he get the stone?”

“No. He never got near the plinth,” Odin said.

Hela walked up and picked up the box. “Good. Let’s go,” she said. “Maybe we can catch him in space if we’re fast enough and blow up his ship.”

Odin led the way back out of the structure and outside. The strangeness all around them continued on, although neither of them had been there long enough to recognise that it had begun to weaken in strength as they made their way back to their ship.

It was, thankfully, exactly where they left it and in the same condition. As Odin took to the air, Hela scanned the ground for Thanos’ ship in the hope that he had not yet taken off. She was disappointed to see the empty place where it had been. “I want him dead,” she said.

“It certainly would be safer for Asgard if he was,” Odin replied, using the scanner to watch for a possible attack as they left the atmosphere.

Thanos’ ship was nowhere to be seen. Odin set up the first jump as soon as his final scan indicated that there were no other vessels in the area.

“I wish we could follow him,” Hela said. “If only I had my own ship.”

“I don’t think you should try and take him on alone,” Odin said. “What if I hadn’t been there? You would have been trapped with your head separated from your body forever.”

“Not forever,” Hela said. “It takes about two days for me to grow a new one. I found out during the war when I was decapitated by a flyer’s wing slicing through me on Rigal.”

“I remember you went missing,” Odin said. “I was worried about you.”

“No need. You can’t kill death,” Hela said. “It hurts to be torn apart like that, and regrowing everything is like having a whole body itch that lasts for days, but I can’t die, Father, I will always return.”

“That’s incredible, Hela, I’ve never heard of a god who was so indestructible,” Odin said. 

“Loki seems to be,” Hela muttered.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, just in the war, Uncle Loki always seemed to escape impossible situations,” Hela said.

“True, but I’ve seen him stagger around with grave injuries,” Odin said. “He doesn’t heal like you do; I know that for a fact. But I am half convinced that he’s the God of Luck with how many narrow escapes he’s had.”

Hela glanced down at the box on her lap. “Let’s get this thing home,” she said. “Maybe King Bor will find a way to put it to good use.”


	59. A Box of Disappointment

Loki was waiting on the landing pad when Odin and Hela’s ship arrived back a few days later. He was lounging on a chair he had dragged out there himself and was eating an apple in what King Bor would have called an insolent manner.

Bor himself arrived a few minutes later and scowled at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Waiting for my dear brother and _darling_ niece to return home,” Loki said, taking another bite.

Bor turned away from him as the ship came in to land. 

Odin walked out first with a bandage over his eye.

“Not again,” Bor mumbled. “Son! What happened? Did you encounter resistance?”

“Thanos the Titan,” Odin said. “It’s alright, the cut is just above my eye. My vision is not in danger.”

“Glad to hear it,” Loki said, rising from his chair. “Although I think you look rather dashing with an eyepatch. Did Thanos meet his maker?”

“No, we defeated him but he was able to escape,” Odin said.

“Pity,” said Loki and Bor at the same time. Loki grinned at him, Bor scowled.

“Any idea where he went?” Bor asked. “I don’t like the idea of him being out there. He’s a man with vengeance in his heart.”

“He probably wants to save his people. The blockade is still up and be all reports the Titan race is dying in large numbers,” Loki said. “I think we should revisit our policy on that before they are all gone.”

“Your opinion is irrelevant,” Bor said as Hela came down the ramp, carrying a small box.

It was the size of a small jewellery box and looked as though it was made of wood, with metal reinforcements, and an assortment of precious gems on the top which looked as though the craftsman had thrown the gems at the lid and affixed them wherever they had landed.

“Is that it?” Bor asked.

“It was within the main chamber, and the box is radiating power,” Odin said. “There was nothing else there.”

“Let’s bring it inside then, we can open it up inside one of the protectively spelled rooms in the Sorcerer’s Tower,” said Bor.

The palace of Asgard was built out of towers. In total there were seventy towers rising up from the top of the main structure, all with their own purposes. The three princesses lived in one of the tallest ones, with the lower floors all being used, storage and archiving for the side with no windows, living space such as guest rooms and sitting areas for the rooms with views over the gardens.

The Sorcerer’s Tower was so named because it was where young royal and other noble mages of years gone by learnt their craft, and as such the rooms all up and down the tower had been spelled with various protections and enchantments. Bor led the way to one of the most fortified rooms at the very top of the tower. The very beginner mages would learn there, so that if anything bad enough to break the protections happened, only the top of the tower would be damaged.

“Should we send for Anima?” Odin suggested as they stepped into the lift.

“The tower has protection spells which are millennia old and reinforced regularly,” Bor said. “She’s a good little researcher, but hardly a quick caster when it comes to spells going wrong.”

“She’s the most likely of all of us to see something going wrong before the worst of it hits,” Loki said.

“Shut up,” Bor growled at him.

Loki stuck his tongue out at the back of Bor’s head, before looking at Hela. “Planning to talk to Nal later?” he asked her quietly. “Because she’s going to want to talk to you.”

“You told,” Hela whispered, outraged.

“No, your sisters are not stupid. They can’t prove you did it, but they know it was a god-power, and you are the most likely candidate, what with it _dying_ and all,” Loki murmured back.

“Send for Anima,” Bor said to Odin as they stepped out of the lift. “Just in case.”

“You took my advice!” Loki said cheerfully.

“Shut up,” Bor responded, walking quickly away from him and into the training room off the landing.

Odin went to a panel on the wall by the lift and activated the internal communication system. He spoke his request for someone to find Anima and send her to the tower in a low voice as Loki skipped after Bor, grinning merrily.

He came to a stop by the table where Bor had set down the box and just stood there, grinning.

Bor glanced at him and growled under his breath in annoyance as Hela followed them into the room. “Stop it,” he said.

“Say please,” Loki responded.

“Loki, stop bothering his Majesty or I’ll throw you out of the window,” Hela said.

One corner of Bor’s mouth turned up into a smile at the thought. “Just us three here right now,” he said quietly.

Loki feigned horror and backed away, hands in the air. “Oh no! What ever shall I do against this terrible threat?” he said. “Scream for mercy loud enough to be heard by – Odin! Brother! Welcome to the room!”

“I don’t even want to know what I missed,” Odin said with a sigh. “Anima has been sent for; I’m sure she will be here soon.”

It was about fifteen minutes later when Anima stepped out of the lift and walked into the room, curiosity written all over her face.

“Do you think it holds another stone?” she asked Odin as soon as she saw the box.

“I suspect so,” Odin said. “The box is covered with the strongest containment charms I’ve ever seen.”

Anima squinted at it, slowly frowning as she did so. “I’m picking up the same,” she said. “It is certainly strong enough to hold something as powerful as an Infinity Stone, but I’m not sure that that’s what it’s doing right now.”

“Why not?” Odin asked, stepping closer.

“You said Arnten Seven was supposed to be corrupted with shifting realities,” Anima said. “I’m not picking up anything like that from the box. Unless the displacements were done centuries before, but surely they would have faded without continual reinforcement.”

“Maybe the stone is strong enough to fix the changes in place?” Hela suggested.

“Maybe, but reality, by its nature, is incredibly stable,” Anima said. “Any spell that forces a change that would not be possible inside of the regular rules of reality has to be continually powered or recast over and over again, or else reality will eventually reclaim it. Permanent spells are those which abide by our reality’s rules. So I can change you into a goat and have you remain that way forever, because goats are a real and stable form of life, but I can’t turn you into a chair and have you retain your sentience and free will. I _can_ turn your body into a chair permanently, but your soul would detach as soon as your body could no longer support life. If I want to keep you there I have to include an element in my spell that supports your soul staying behind and also keep it powered in a form of continuous casting. Does that make sense?”

“So if the power of the stone leaking out of the box is why Arnten Seven was so bizarre, then we should be seeing changes in Asgard right now,” Odin said. “Unless the changes were made by something else and this box was some kind of decoy.”

“Or Thanos got to it,” Bor said. Odin and Hela both shook their heads.

“We arrived just as he revealed the box,” Hela said. “I fought him and prevented him from reaching it until he managed to get by my defences, but Father attacked him just after and he never reached the plinth.”

“Open it,” Bor said. “Let’s see what’s in there.”

The box had no lock, but a single catch on the front to prevent accidental opening. Odin reached out and placed his finger underneath it. “Stand back,” he said. “Anima? Can you raise an extra shield just in case?”

Anima held her hands out and concentrated. It took her two minutes, during which time Bor shifted impatiently from foot to foot.

“You remind me of a toddler,” Loki said conversationally. “Can I get you some milk?”

“It done,” Anima said, cutting off whatever Bor’s reply was going to be.

Odin lifted the catch and pulled open the lid.

Nothing. The box was empty.

“By Yggdrasil’s roots, the Titan _did_ steal it!” Bor exclaimed angrily.

“There is no way he could have, right Father?” Hela responded.

“Maybe the box _was_ a decoy?” Loki suggested. “Maybe we should go back as soon as possible and check?”

“This whole thing was a waste of time,” Bor said.

“I respectfully disagree, Father,” Odin said. “We do not have another Infinity Stone, but we have information that Thanos is seeking them. We also know that Malekith is also seeking at least one, and clearly intends to use them for _something_. Based on information from our spies he is almost certainly planning an attack somewhere.”

“I hope it’s those bloody Dwarves,” Bor muttered. “Anima, take the box and study it. Find out if it has any curses or things of that nature. If we do find another stone we may be able to use the box to hold it.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Anima said, giving him a bow and taking the box. 

“It’s very pretty; perhaps you can use it as a jewellery box?” Loki suggested to Bor, who gritted his teeth. 

“Let me know what you find out,” he said to Anima instead of acknowledging Loki’s suggestion. 

“I would like permission to return to Arnten Seven,” Hela said. “If it was a decoy then the real thing must still be there.”

Bor looked thoughtful. “You and Loki go,” he said. “I want my son to stay here; he’s been gone long enough.”

“What he means to say is that he’s sick of doing his own paperwork,” Loki said to Anima, who smothered a smile.

Bor continued to ignore him as they all stepped back into the lift.

****

Malekith was studying a stolen map of Asgard’s palace when a guard informed him that Algrim had returned to Svartalfheim. 

“Why isn’t he here?” he asked.

“His message states that he does not want to put you in undue danger, my King,” the guard said. “He says he got what you wanted, but that it has corrupted him, and he must first find a way to remove it before he will risk your life.”

Malekith was immediately interested. “Is there footage?” he asked.

The guard called up the security file of the landing pad on the far side of the realm, where Algrim had chosen to land his vessel. Malekith watched with a mixture of confusion and delight as Algrim walked down the ramp and immediately turned the two landing technicians into what looked like stone rubble.

“This thing he is corrupter with, can he control it?” Malekith asked.

“It appears not, my King, he has killed seven people so far in his attempts to withhold the power from spilling out. He turned the administration building into rakteen pudding.”

“Rakteen pudding,” Malekith repeated. “Actual rakteen pudding?”

“Yes, my King. This thing, this Aether, as Algrim calls it, it changes the world around it in chaotic ways. Some things become other, random, things, like stone or pudding. Other changes are more bizarre, like when one of the guards became a miniature supernova and lit up the whole area for fifteen seconds before he suddenly became an equally mini black hole and then became broken bits of leaf. The scientists from our top research facilities have already been called to find a way to remove it from his body and contain it.”

Malekith made a thoughtful type of sound and watched the footage again. “And neither the supernova nor the black hole affected anyone else?”

“Oh no, lots of people died. If they hadn’t ended by turning into leaves out realm would already be getting sucked into the black hole,” the guard said.

“Is the Aether powerful enough to sustain this effect?” Malekith asked. “To do this to a great many people, or a number of realms, at once?”

“Algrim believes so. He said that he felt as though he could destroy the entire realm with a thought,” the guard said, looking slightly nervous.

“Order Algrim to relocate himself to the moon,” Malekith said, “at least until the scientists figure out a way to make the power of the Aether safe. He made it back here with his ship in one piece; he should be able to fly himself to the moon without much trouble.”

The guard nodded respectfully and turned away.

“And I want every single scientist, researcher, and sorcerer to examine the Aether and figure out a way to channel its power in the direction that I desire,” Malekith said. “They have three years before the convergence. With a weapon powerful enough to destroy a realm and a direct channel linking us all, that is our best chance to strike, and bring Yggdrasil’s realms to their knees.”

****

Nal carefully poured water into the pot of the Home’s Shelter sapling, making sure that all of the dirt was moistened. Daianya was sitting at the window, idly watching the people in the gradens far below.

“I wonder where Loki got the seed from so quickly?” she said.

“What?” Nal asked.

“I assume Loki got a seed for you to regrow the tree,” Daianya said, nodding towards the tiny sapling.”

“That trader is a rare additional the marketplace, he hasn’t been back in months.” Nal said. “Besides, the life-code of the sapling and the old tree are the same, it had to have come from the last one.”

“I thought the last one was killed too thoroughly for that,” Daianya said. “That’s what Anima said anyway.”

“The seed must have fallen off before the old tree did,” Nal said. “And then it fell in the hole after we dug it out, germinated, and started to grow. It’s the only possible explanation.”

“It was nice of Loki to help you dig out the tree,” Daianya said. “You know if you’d waited a few days until I was free I would have pitched in.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to wait in case it was some kind of illness, or fungus, something that might hurt the other trees,” Nal said.

“Instead of just Hela,” Daianya said. 

“It _might_ not be her, remember she’s never actually done anything like this before,” Nal said.

“Actually I think she has,” Daianya said. “I remember King Bor once saying that she had killed someone without a blade once, at a family dinner.”

“Just after Bragi’s death, yes, now I remember,” Nal said. “He didn’t say how she killed though, maybe she just strangled them?”

“I think we should ask Father, now that he is back,” Daianya said. “Or maybe Loki, he would definitely know the story. He seems to have a way of finding out everything.”

“He gossips more than anyone else I know,” Nal said, “and I strongly suspects that he listens in on conversations he shouldn’t as well.”

 _Maybe he speaks to Ratatoskr as he runs up and down Yggdrasil?_ Anima thought. 

Daianya smiled at the suggestion. _Maybe,_ she conceded. _Certainly if you told me that’s what he was doing I’d be inclined to believe it without question._

 _It sounds like him,_ Nal said.

 _I’m going to speak to Ratatoskr one day,_ Anima thought.

 _Why?_ Nal asked.

 _I want to know what he’s seen and heard about Ragnarok,_ Anima thought.

Nal and Daianya exchanged glances. _Why is Ragnarok so important to you?_ Nal thought. _I can’t say it interests me that much._

 _It’s the destruction of our world and the birth of a new one. Or it’s the destruction of Asgard the parasite, or it’s something else entirely. How can that not interest you? I hate a mystery,_ Anima thought.

 _If any of us are still around when Ragnarok comes I suppose we will find out the truth then,_ Daianya thought practically.

 _Oh you two! Not a curious bone in either of your bodies,_ Anima thought. _I shall discover the truth one day, you’ll see._

 _And when you do, we won’t be interested,_ Nal thought cheekily, making Daianya laugh.


	60. Mistakes of the Past

The tavern was crowded and filled with the sounds of conversation mixed with the clunk of tankards being set down and picked up again. Tarah led the way through to a booth at the side and sat down. “Do you drink mead? Or do you prefer wine?” she asked Daianya as the group sat.

“Either,” Daianya said.

Tarah had invited a few of her other friends from the ranks of the trainees. Daianya knew all of them by sight and brief conversations, but their training sessions were focussed on battle, conversation was for over the dinner table or at night in the barracks, both of which Daianya did not attend.

Tarah ordered five tankards of mead as one of the other girls, Norah, turned and gave Daianya a smile. “I’m a big fan of your backswing,” she said cheerfully.

Daianya grinned at her. “Thanks.”

“I heard Prince Odin had returned,” Norah continued. 

“He got back in yesterday,” Daianya confirmed, “he and Hela.”

“Hela scares me,” Norah said, earning herself a shush from Tiree, one of the other trainees. “What? She does!”

“She scares me too,” Daianya said. “She scares everyone.”

“Is she really able to just kill you with a thought?” Norah asked, eyes wide and leaning forward with curiosity.

Daianya opened her mouth to deny it before remembering Nal’s poor tree. “Uh… I’ve never seen her do it,” she said instead.

“I heard that she would kill whole battalions of Titans in the war, all by herself,” Norah said.

“That sounds like her,” Daianya said.

“Here we are, ladies, five tankards,” said the barman, delivering their drinks. “Milnia! Fetch another barrel from the cellar!”

Tarah suddenly sank in her seat as the others all looked around. “Milnia? She’s here?” Tarah whispered. “I thought she was working over at the Golden Hammer!”

“Is it the same one?” Norah asked, craning her neck to see.

“Why don’t you want to see her?” Daianya asked Tarah curiously as the other girls tried to catch a glimpse.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” Tarah said. “We broke up after she quit the Valkyrie because she wanted me to quit too. My mother told me not to get involved with another trainee. She said most of them don’t make it, so I was only setting myself up for disappointment.”

“It’s her,” Tiree said. “Let’s finish our drinks and get out of here.”

“Was it a bad breakup?” Daianya asked gently.

Tarah nodded. “She accused me of everything under the sun once she realised I wouldn’t go with her,” she said. “She turned on me so fast it was horrible.”

“Drink up, ladies,” Tiree said. “Life’s too short to linger in one place.”

Daianya took a large gulp of her mead and glanced over at the bar. She watched as Milnia appeared from the cellar, carrying a barrel over her shoulder.

An argument, which had been going on in a relatively calm fashion for the last few minutes at the table next to them finally escalated to something physical, and Daianya’s attention was diverted as the two men jumped to their feet and began to pull out their weapons as their friends started to cheer. 

Daianya looked back at Milnia, who was making a beeline for the fight while drawing a cudgel. “She’s coming,” she said.

Tarah disappeared beneath the table and the other girls all shuffled around to close the gap made by her absence. Milnia passed them and swung her cudgel at the two men, striking both.

“Take it outside,” she growled. “I’ll have no broken furniture here, or else I’ll take payment from your bodies.”

The men both glared at her, but backed down and stormed out. Milnia turned to head back to the bar and caught sight of Daianya – who silently cursed her bright red hair – before heading over to their table.

“Made friends have you?” Milnia said by way of introduction. “You deserve each other. They’re only friends with you so you can buy them drinks and you’re only with them because it’s a hobby. She won’t have your backs in a real fight!” she said to the table at large.

Daianya maintained a calm demeanour. It would do her no good to bash Milnia’s head into the ground, however much she wanted to.

“Where’s the traitor?” Milnia said suddenly. “Come on, you forgot to hide her drink, where is she?”

“Bathroom,” Norah said. “And we’re not hiding anything.”

Milnia turned and started walking at a fast pace toward the bathroom.

“Let’s go. Now,” Tiree said. 

The group got out of their chairs and helped Tarah out from under the table, before quickly making their way to the door. They escaped into the night with a burst of giggles and ran down the street and around the corner.

“She’s gotten worse,” Norah said. “She’s so bitter now.”

“She was always bitter,” Tarah said. “She should have stuck it out.”

“She was always a quitter,” the last of their group, Meydee, said. “She used to go on and on about how all the little tasks were beneath ‘real’ Valkyrie. I don’t know what you saw in her, Tarah.”

“Rebellion from my mother, mostly,” Tarah admitted. “I’ve come to realise that my mother wasn’t all that bad after all, but don’t tell her, please.”

There was some more giggling as the group began making its way to another tavern. 

“Hey! Did you think you could just sneak away from me?!”

They turned as one to see Milnia running towards them with an angry look on her face and her cudgel in the air.

“This breakup…” Daianya asked, “Was it by any chance violent?”

“She hit me a few times,” Tarah admitted, already starting to run.

Daianya planted her feet and stared Milnia down as the other woman got closer.

“Daianya! What are you doing?” Tarah called out.

Daianya didn’t move, just watched as Milnia closed the gap. The moment the cudgel swung, Daianya ducked, pressed her shoulder inward, caught Milnia under her own shoulder and flipped her over onto the ground.

“You will leave Tarah alone,” Daianya said firmly. “Because if you don’t I’ll have you taken to the guards and charged with attacking a princess, and then my Grandfather will put you to death. DO you want that? No? Then don’t bother us anymore.”

“Spoilt brat,” Milnia spat, climbing to her feet. 

“Sometimes,” Daianya said. “Other times I like to use my status to help my friends, you know, the ones you insist on attacking?” 

Milnia swung again, but Daianya ducked under it easily. “As you wish,” she said, rising up. She stepped in closer and jabbed at Milnia, forcing the other woman to fall back over and over again to prevent being pushed to the ground. Milnia tried to get in another swing, but Daianya caught the cudgel in her hand, forcing it to come to a jolting stop. Milnia yelped in pain as the force of her swing was sent back down her arm instead of into Daianya’s skull. 

“You should have kept up with your training,” Daianya said calmly and punched Milnia in the face. Milnia went down hard and stayed there. “Help me find a guard to take her,” Daianya said.

“You knocked her out,” Norah exclaimed.

“Nice,” Tiree said.

“Um… thanks,” Tarah said.

“Why didn’t we do that?” Maydee asked.

“Milnia used to kick all our arses in training,” Norah said. “I think I kind of forgot that I’m a better fighter now.”

They dragged Milnia as far as the corner, where they were able to flag down a guard in the next street.

“Will she really be killed?” Tarah asked Daianya after they had reported what happened to the guard.

“Almost certainly,” Daianya said. “Grandfather is not kind to those who attack his family.”

“I… I don’t know how to feel about that,” Tarah said. “She was so nice to me, once, but then she’s been so horrible ever since.”

“Would you be this conflicted if she’d died in a bar fight?” Norah asked.

“Probably,” Tarah said. “I feel like a fool for it though.”

“I think it makes you normal,” Daianya said as Tiree nodded. “I think it’s okay to mourn the nicer parts of what you used to have.”

Tarah shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t think I want to go drinking anymore,” she said.

The others all felt the same way, and the group made their way back to the palace, where they parted ways at the gate.

“See you in training,” Daianya said.

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” Tarah said. 

****

Anima knocked on the office door of King Bor and waited as his secretary came out to see what she wanted. After a few minutes she was let inside.

Bor and Odin were sitting by the fire, talking quietly about realm business. Odin gave Anima a broad smile when he saw her and beckoned her over.

“How are you?” he asked her, gesturing for her to take the third and final seat.

Anima bowed to Bor before sitting down, reflected that it had not been all that long ago when he would have kicked her out of any room without a second thought in order to discuss serious matters with his son.

“I finished analysing the box,” she said.

“And?” Bor asked.

“It’s not got any traps or snares that I can see. It’s capable of holding something as powerful as an infinity stone easily. I’d wager it was designed to keep it safe while allowing for regular use. There actually is a lock, but not one that uses a key. The stones across the top have to be pressed in a particular order. Once it’s closed nothing short of a supernova will force it open, it’s that strong.”

“So it might be useful if we ever find another stone,” Bor said. “I will keep it for now, how do you lock and unlock it?”

Anima put the box on the low table between them and showed him. “This one, then this one, then this one, and then this one twice,” she said, pressing the stones. Bor copied her and unlocked it again. 

“I’ll put it on my desk,” he said. “Maybe one day we will need it.”

“If Hela and Loki succeed in finding the stone hidden on Arnten Seven then we might be using it sooner than we thought,” Odin said.

“I suspect they won’t find anything,” Bor said. “Those shifts in reality must have been caused when the stone was there, but it has clearly moved on. An entire temple dedicated to an empty box? No. If the box had a trap on it, or wasn’t as powerful as it is then I’d suspect something, but it was clearly designed to hold the stone and equally clearly is not doing so. We’ll keep an ear out for any more planets with shifts in reality, but in the meantime I want to know what Malekith is up to. A diplomatic mission might be in order. Is there anything he needs, any pretext we might use to get ourselves invited to Svartalfheim?”

“They are clearly rebuilding their army,” Odin said. “Although if they realise we know about it they will go deeper into hiding about it.”

“They like magic, don’t they?” Bor said suddenly, looking over at Anima. “And you, girl, you aren’t aging the way you have been, are you?”

Anima paused and gave Bor a suspicious look. “No, but – ” she started to say.

“I’ll see if Malekith wants a magical bride,” Bor said.

It was a good thing Odin wasn’t drinking wine at that moment, because he would have sprayed it all over Anima. As it was he coughed rather hard and shot a look of concern and alarm at his father.

“I don’t think – ”

“Oh I’m not serious about it,” Bor said dismissively. “I need an excuse, that’s my excuse. He turned down Nal because she’s Jotun, but a nice, magic-using mortal who isn’t aging away would at least make him interested. I’ll writing to him about it and see what he says. He’s been more and more isolated from the rest of the nine realms since the war, at the very least he will be intrigued enough to hear me out.”

Odin gave Anima an apologetic look. Anima shrugged in reply. “We need to know what he’s up to, in case there is a threat against Asgard,” she said. “I’ll play along.”

“Good,” Bor said, picking up the box and placing it on the corner of his desk. “I’ll let you know if he wants me to bring you along.”

Anima rose and gave her father a kiss and King Bor a bow, before leaving them to their plans.

 _You will never guess what the King is up to,_ she thought as she headed back up to her bedroom.

_Do I want to?_ Nal answered. _I’m in my room if you want to come in for a drink before bed._

 _I’m on my way back in,_ Daianya thought. _What does the King want?_

 _He’s going to offer me to Malekith,_ Anima thought, and waited with a grin of mischief for the response.

_No way!_

_What?_

_Ew!_

_Why?!_

_It’s a ruse,_ Anima thought, laughing. _He wants to get himself invited to Svartalfheim, I’m not actually going to be married to the king of the Dark Elves._

 _You had better not be,_ Nal thought firmly.

 _Or we’ll run away together,_ Daianya added.

 _I’m so lucky to have sisters like you,_ Anima thought.


	61. A Grave Fashion Mistake, Apparently

The trip to Arnten Seven was made via the Bifrost. Now that the planet had been mapped by the Asgardian Bifrost system it was far easier than to take a tiny ship all the way through space, and almost as soon as the beam of light deposited them on the surface, Hela turned and attacked Loki with a hastily summoned dagger.

He ducked under the blade and began to dance around her cheerfully with his hands behind his back as his legs and feet glided across the ground as though it were a dance floor.

“Faster, Hela darling, I can see you coming too easily,” he said.

She growled in annoyance and summoned a larger blade.

“Really? Bigger doesn’t always mean better you know,” Loki said. “Just look at me and Bor, he’s enormous, but I’m the more superior being by far.” Hela swung again and again, each time Loki dodged without expending much effort. Hela gave a hard swing and he stepped back with an infuriatingly calm look on his face. “Should we not be looking for the stone?”

Hela kept coming; eyes blazing with fury as she swung more and more clumsily. Loki rolled his eyes and side stepped the next swing, only to accidently fall into a portal and disappear with a yelp.

Hela stopped swinging and looked closely at the portal, but there was no sign of him. Slowly she started to grin.

“Do you know the coordinates to return home? Because we’re going to need them if we find this thing.” Loki said, stepping out of a completely different portal. His clothing had changed into a red shirt which hung loosely over yellow tights, with red boots to match. There was a red pointed cap on his head with a yellow and white striped hood beneath it.

“Where did those come from?” Hela asked.

Loki shrugged. “I found myself somewhere else and had to adapt. How long have I been gone?”

“A few seconds,” Hela said, angrily stowing her blade. Loki had made an annoying point, she _didn’t_ know what the coordinates to return home were, the Bifrost mechanism was still a new technology to her and she hadn’t bothered to check.

“I was gone almost five years,” Loki said. “I think I was in another dimension, and I’m pretty sure I was on the equivalent of Midgard, but whatever, I’m back now and that’s all that matters, let’s find that stone.”

Hela led the way back to the temple. “It’s changed,” she said as she walked. “There’s less weirdness, although just as many portals.”

“Could be random chaos shifting things closer to our reality, could be that the stone is in fact gone,” Loki said.

“Either way, the temple is still clearly at the centre of it all,” Hela said. 

They entered the temple and made their way to the chamber where Hela had fought Thanos. There was a large splatter of dried blood to the right of the stairs leading up to the plinth.

“Yours or his?” Loki asked, pointing at it.

“Mine,” Hela said bitterly. “He cut my head off.”

“You know, if you trained a little bit in actual fighting techniques then he probably wouldn’t have gotten under your guard,” Loki said. “You never did like training though, did you?”

“I wasn’t allowed to kill anyone,” Hela said. “What’s the point of fighting if it doesn’t end in death?”

“Humiliated defeat seems to be good enough for the rest of us,” Loki said. “I can show you a few moves if you like.”

Hela glared at him but neither accepted nor turned his offer down.

Loki poked and prodded around the chamber, looking for a secret opening or a hidden alcove. Nothing presented itself. Hela examined the plinth closely, before summoning a large axe and slicing the top of the plinth clean off. It hit the floor with a hard clang and the stone shattered. 

“Nothing,” Hela said, looking into the broken top of the plinth with annoyance. “It’s completely solid.”

“My magic is going delightfully haywire in this environment, but even so I’m reasonably certain that this place has no central focus. The shifts that are here a lingering from something else, now gone,” Loki said.

“I know Thanos didn’t take the stone,” Hela said. “Father attacked him as soon as I lost my head, and they fought until Thanos fled. I heard it all, I saw some of it.”

“You don’t lose consciousness when you’re decapitated?” Loki asked.

“No. I don’t _die_. I’m not sure how many times I have to say it, but ‘killing’ me doesn’t do anything except slow me down,” Hela said. “Unlike you, who one day will not be so lucky.”

Loki shrugged. “I’m unlucky all the time, just not in any way that matters.”

“Are you the God of Luck?” Hela asked. “Father speculated that you might be.”

Loki grinned at her. “I thought you didn’t believe I was a god, Hela darling.”

“I don’t,” Hela said. “But I think you are stronger than a standard giant, so you must have some advantage beyond your… heritage.”

“Did you pause before saying the word heritage because you believe Jotnir don’t have any?” Loki asked. “I have my magic. I have my wits. I have my skill and my style, and I am a god.”

“Of luck?”

“Of Me.”

“You can’t be the God of Yourself,” Hela said scornfully.

Loki laughed. “I don’t see why not, no one else is going to be.”

Hela turned away with a sneer and began walking out. “Let’s go,” she said. “I want to return to Asgard and take a ship to track Thanos.”

“Why do you want to find him so badly?” Loki asked, following her.

“He escaped the blockade,” Hela said. “He’s dangerous, and no doubt out for revenge. I want to eliminate the threat before it reaches Asgard.”

“And here I just thought you liked him,” Loki said.

Hela spun, a knife already in her hand. “I loathe him,” she hissed between her teeth.

Loki held his hands up and smiled at her. “My mistake,” he said. “I didn’t realise my teasing would hit such a nerve.”

Hela turned away and started walking again quickly. “I don’t like being told that the only man I must like is a Titan,” she said. “They’re disgusting.”

“I don’t know. I found one or two to be rather attractive in a gigantic, ominously threatening way,” Loki said. “Do you have someone you prefer instead? Someone special back on Asgard?”

Hela rolled her eyes. “Why do you want to know” she asked.

“You are a future Queen, I’d like to know if there are any future consorts on the horizon,” Loki said. “Plus if I know before your father he’ll be _really_ annoyed at me.”

“Just shut up,” Hela said, stepping out from the temple and pointing at the ground. “Make the portal.”

Loki skipped ahead of her and began drawing in the dirt. “It keeps changing,” he said after a second. “We’ll have to move further away.”

Hela took off walking, stomping hard into the ever-changing dirt. Loki skipped along behind her, his red floppy shift flapping around him. Hela’s fingers kept twitching as she actively resisted summoning a blade to end his life once and for all. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost missed the ship landed across in the distance. The silver outside did eventually catch her eye though and she stopped walking to look at it in curiosity.

“Here’s good,” Loki said, not having seen the ship. He began to draw in the dirt.

“There’s a ship,” Hela said. “Someone is here, perhaps they are also seeking the stone.”

“Maybe they know more than we do?” Loki suggested, crouching behind a nearby rock. “Should we tail them?”

“You do it, you’re better at that sort of thing,” Hela said. “I will watch the ship.”

Loki shrugged, accepting her plan without argument. He made his way across the land, careful not to fall into anymore portals. The people were just stepping out of the ship as he drew near. 

“Are you certain this is the place?” one of them said to the other. 

“Yes. This is Arnten Seven. This is the place the Dark Elf wanted to know about according to the report the Dwarf and Mardo the shopkeeper made.”

“I didn’t scan any other ships on the way down,” the first man said. “I don’t think he’s here.”

“In fairness, you did scan thirteen hundred giant fish in the centre of a landmass, and lava, both of which I can’t see anywhere about,” the second man said. “This place is not normal, there’s some kind of radical phenomena messing with physics. He could be still here.”

They began making their way toward the temple, still arguing. Loki turned and snuck back to where he’d left Hela, intending to tell her that the two men had no idea where the stone might be. 

She wasn’t there. He was just about to call out her name when the ship took off behind him. He ran back to the sight as safely as he was able, only to see the pilot had been thrown out of the vessel and was now lying dead on the ground. Loki made a sound of frustration between his teeth and turned to look back where the two men had gone. It seemed that Hela had not planned to wait to try and track down Thanos, and Loki was now tasked with getting the stranded men home.

“God of Transportation, that’s me,” he muttered under his breath.

****

Odin was waiting back at the palace when Loki walked in.

“Sorry I’m late, had to arrange for a ship to transport a few men home,” Loki said. “Hela stole their ship and is going after Thanos even now, I presume.”

Odin sighed heavily. “At least she didn’t kill them,” he muttered. 

Loki remained silent.

“What are you wearing?” Odin asked, noticing Loki’s outfit for the first time.

“The latest in godly fashion from the people of an alternate Midgard,” Loki said. “I had a side adventure.”

“Of course you did. Any idea where Hela was planning to go first?” Odin asked. “She’s been wanting to kill Thanos for a long time.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain that he’s the one who tried to destroy the whole of Asgard, so I can’t honestly be mad at her for wanting him dead,” Loki said, casually helping himself to an apple and taking a large bite.

“Even so, she’s strong, and unkillable, but not the best fighter,” Odin said. “He has a good chance of defeating her, and then imprisoning her. She shouldn’t be trying to face him alone.”

“Ask Anima to track her,” Loki said. “I’ll bet she can do it without too much trouble.”

Odin nodded. “Good idea, I’ll find her.”

“She’s often in the library doing research on Asgard,” Loki said, following him. “She wants to know how Ragnarok will happen.”

“Sutur’s crown will be placed into the Eternal Flame, he shall rise from it to the size of a mountain and we shall all perish in fire and agony,” Odin said. “It was in her school books.”

“The _real_ story, Brother, the real truth,” Loki said. “Not the prophesy but the reality.”

“I don’t know why she wants to know, unless she thinks it’s likely any time soon,” Odin said. 

“Some people want to know things for their own sake. Knowledge is power, Brother, you know that well enough,” Loki said.

Anima was indeed in the library, carefully combing through a manuscript.

“Uncle Vili lives right near this settlement. Do you think I could go and visit it in the summer and take some notes of my own?” Anima asked Odin, looking up at him with a smile, before noticing Loki. “What are you wearing?”

“A grave fashion mistake, apparently,” Loki said.

“What settlement?” Odin asked her.

“This manuscript is all about the carvings on one of the oldest settlements in Asgard, look it supposedly depicts the building of the settlement down one side of the inner wall, and their arrival from somewhere else on the other. Asgard isn’t so big that they need to commemorate moving to a new village, surely, so maybe there are other carvings that depict what happened during the last Ragnarok,” Anima said.

“Last Ragnarok?” Odin asked. “I thought there was only supposed to be one.”

“Not according to Jotunheim,” Loki said. “And as the superior storytellers, I think you ought to defer to our great wisdom on the matter.”

“I want to visit the underside of Asgard as well,” Anima said, “to see what is there.”

“That’s far too dangerous,” Odin said at once.

“Why? She’s the Goddess of Magic, she can handle it,” Loki said, giving Anima a wink.

“I want to know why there is so much residual magic around. I want to trace what spells caused it, and how long ago they were cast,” Anima said.

“Perhaps another time,” Odin said. “Right now I need to ask you a favour. I need you to track Hela. She’s taken off on her own to try and find Thanos, and I want to send her some reinforcements.”

“She’s just arrived at a space station near the Epacknear Cluster,” Anima said.

“How do you know that?” Odin asked, stunned.

“She’s the _Goddess_ of _Magic_ ,” Loki repeated from behind him.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’ve always found Hela easy to track,” Anima said. “I always assumed it was some kind of spillover from Daianya and her ability to see souls. She can find anyone if she looks hard enough.”

Odin turned to send a quizzical look at Loki, asking without words whether he’d known about this. Loki gave a single-shoulder shrug that implied he might have known a little bit. 

“I’ll send a garrison to her location; she shouldn’t be alone. If he captures her, then her inability to die may not be the advantage it normally is,” Odin said.

“Do you think he’ll torture her? Or just lock her away?” Anima asked.

“Encase her in a block of metal, or boiled stone, would be my personal guess,” Loki said. “It’d take her centuries, maybe even millennia to break out – hey! New prison idea!”

“No,” Odin said.

“But some people need capturing,” Loki protested.

“Still no.”

“I don’t see why we should do that when seidr fold exist,” Anima said. “That is if you want someone imprisoned without any means of escape.”

“Solid rock is more confining, really drives home the message that they did something extra bad,” Loki said.

“Be careful what you wish for, Father would more than likely ask you to test the new prison,” Odin said.

Loki grinned. “You’ll be waiting for me when I break out, right?”

Anima turned back to her manuscript. “Can I please go and see this place in the summer?” she asked.

“It depends on whether Father wants you to accompany him to Svartalfheim,” Odin said. “He may want you to go with him to help sell the ruse.”

“I have missed something, clearly,” Loki said.

“King Bor is going to offer my hand in marriage to Malekith as a way to get an invitation to Svartalfheim,” Anima said.

“That idiot,” Loki said bluntly.

“He does not intend to agree to a match once he’s there,” Odin said quietly. “He just wants to see what Malekith is up to.”

“And Malekith is stupid enough to show him around all the secret areas, is he? No. The only thing that will happen is Bor will be fed Dark Elf food, get the shits, and return home with no more knowledge than he left with, plus Malekith will hate him even more for backing out of a deal that he, himself, proposed,” Loki said.

Odin smiled indulgently and placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Peace, Brother, peace. It is not Bor who will be looking around, it is the men who accompany him. Experts in all things discrete, which you are not being right now, here in the library, so let’s go and have a glass of wine in my rooms, discuss what you have missed, and then you can tell me all about your side adventure and how you got those clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outfit Loki was wearing in this chapter was based on the picture which is meant to be him from an Icelandic manuscript:
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loki#/media/File:Processed_SAM_loki.jpg


	62. Svartalfheim

It had taken two weeks for the scientists to figure out a way to extract the Aether from Algrim’s body. More than a few of them were sporting bizarre bodily modifications from failed attempts. Algrim himself was fully intact and whole, but greatly weakened. Nevertheless, when Malekith received the letter from King Bor there was no one else he trusted to speak with about it.

Algrim was recovering in the largest barracks infirmary beneath the surface of Svartalfheim. Malekith dismissed the healers as he walked in.

“I have received a communication from King Bor,” he said.

Algrim, who had been lying prone with his eyes almost shut, immediately tried to sit up. Malekith helped him before settling into a chair.

“What does he want?” Algrim asked.

“To discuss a marriage, apparently the youngest daughter, Anima, has found a way to stop aging so now she’s worth something. He thinks I might be interested,” Malekith said.

“A princess is quite an offer,” Algrim said, “especially after you turned down the last one.”

“I was foolish,” Malekith admitted softly. “Bor has left us out of all inter-realm relations since I insulted his other granddaughter. And given his extremely well known penchant for holding grudges, and the timing of this offer coming right after we acquired the Aether, I am suspicious. Are you certain they did not see you on Arnten Seven?”

“I am certain,” Algrim said. “Odin was unconscious and Hela was far too invested in her fight.”

“The fact that they showed up at all is worrying. They should not have been aware of Arnten Seven, they must have known that you were sent there, even if they do not have proof that you succeeded in bringing back the Aether,” Malekith said.

“I regret that my actions were not subtle enough. I offer my life in payment for my failure,” Algrim said at once.

Malekith shook his head. “I will take your life for a failure only when it no longer holds value to me,” he said. “I need you to remain as my General.”

Algrim bowed his head deeply in response. “Do you intend to accept his offer to visit?” he asked.

“I cannot. If I invite him here he will bring spies. The Aether is still causing chaos up on the moon, he will have people scanning for such things,” Malekith said. “But then again if I refuse him his supposedly diplomatic visit then he will know I have something to hide.”

“We must move the Aether,” Algrim said. “I volunteer.”

“No. You are damaged and it might kill you. I will instruct the scientists to take it to the far side of the system, beyond the black hole. Bor will come by Bifrost, he cannot search the entire system, and no scanner small enough to be carried in a bag has a strong enough range to detect it from all the way out there,” Malekith said. “I will invite him after it is safely moved.”

“How will you refuse his offer once he is here? You cannot accept, she will want to write to her family and if you prevent her they will wonder why they haven’t heard from her.”

“She’s a princess, not a warrior. She will not be permitted near our operations,” Malekith said.

“A sorcerer of her rumoured power levels will not require permission. She will spy for her Grandfather, I am certain of it,” Algrim said.

Malekith inclined his head at Algrim’s point. “If I refuse, I will insult Bor a second time, and we are not yet ready to go to war.”

“Then you must accept, and we must find a way to delay the wedding until after the attack, then you will not have to go through with it,” Algrim said.

Malekith nodded. “Then that is what I will do.”

****

Anima shoved another dress into her bag, must to the faint horror of the servant behind her. 

“Please, your Grace, I am happy to pack for you if you would only point to what you wish to take,” she pleaded as the skirt of the dress was crumpled mercilessly into a small gap of space.

“It’s alright,” Anima said, oblivious to the servant’s alarm. “I know a spell to smooth everything out again.”

She finished packing and handed the bag to the servant. “It’s only for a few days anyway,” she said.

“But… surely some jewels, some lace belts? You are a princess visiting another realm, you must be appropriately dressed,” protested the servant.

“Would that make you happier?” Anima asked her.

She nodded almost violently.

Anima sighed deeply and forced a smile. “Alright, if you prefer it, I will take a walk in the garden and leave the packing entirely up to you.”

She walked out of her bedroom, feeling slightly frustrated, and took the elevator to the ground.

 _ **“She sounds awfully stressed,”**_ said Senan from her pendant. They had been talking when the servant had walked in.

“I think the servants worry more about the way we look than we do,” Anima said. “But as long as it makes her happy; it’s only for a few days anyway.”

 _ **“And you’re certain that your Grandfather isn’t serious?”**_ Senan asked.

“He says he isn’t, and father would not be happy if he was, so I’m not worried,” Anima said. “Besides, if he tried to betroth me to Malekith I will run far far away and never look back.”

 _ **“I don’t suppose you’d consider runnin’ away to my little village here on Midagrd?”**_ Senan said hopefully.

“You’ve got a wife,” Anima said.

_**“I do, and she’s… she’s a kind woman who I’ll not betray. But I don’t love her, and nor she me. She did her duty as did I. I miss you, Ani darlin’.”** _

“We missed our chance, Senan, and I still feel as though I can’t leave Asgard, well, mostly, sometimes I still feel restless, but I think there’s something I have to do, and until I do it, I can’t leave,” Anima said. “Which means I definitely won’t be marrying Malekith, and even if I have to run, I don’t think I’ll be going very far.”

 _ **“We never had a chance, Ani darlin’, not really. If we had I’d have taken it and not looked back,”**_ Senan said. _**“Enjoy your adventure, you can tell me all about how the Dark Elves live when you get back.”**_

The pendant went dark and Anima gave a large sigh. “I think I made a mistake,” she said softly as the midday bell began to ring. With another heavy sigh, Anima turned and made her way back into the palace, where the party of diplomates were assembling.

****

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Loki said. “You need me. I am the stealthiest person in the whole realm. I can find things that you don’t even know are hidden.”

“I would rather take Hela in her worst mood than have you accompany me on a visit to Svartalfheim,” Bor said.

“Loki is very good at sneaking around,” Odin said. “He broke into our weapons’ vault several times before helping us close the gaps in our security.”

“If he helped you close the gaps, then there’s at least one left,” Bor said.

Loki smiled broadly. “Perhaps, but I’m not telling. I am the God of Secrets.”

“You’ve used that one,” Odin said absentmindedly.

“I have? Bugger,” Loki said.

“My word is final, Trickster. You are not coming,” Bor said as Anima entered the room.

The remaining members of the party consisted of five men from the palace guard, and three men who were dressed like they were. 

“You’re letting Sanstri go?” Loki complained. “But Anima is already a sorcerer, you don’t need him!”

Bor turned and gave him a look which very plainly said that he thought Loki was being especially idiotic, even for him. “Anima’s role is to be distracting to Malekith.”

“That’s not a good use of her abilities,” Loki said.

“On the contrary,” Bor said. “Malekith must be as distracted as possible. He is a suspicious man by nature and will be looking for acts of sorcery, _especially_ from someone with the reputation Anima has. Her skills are excellent, but ultimately a liability in this venture. Santri will perform any spells we may require and he will do so knowing that Malekith’s attention has been diverted elsewhere. Now, do you have any further stupid things to add? Or can I continue this briefing without interference?”

Loki huffed and pouted like a child, but gave Anima a thumbs up the moment Bor’s back was turned.

“Urai is our scanning specialist. He will be scanning for military equipment, energy signatures from weapons and things of that nature. Nourab will be Anima’s lady in waiting, and will around here and there to help.”

Nourab was a spy and a professional, palace-approved thief. No one said it, no one needed to. She was an expert at breaking into places she shouldn’t be and taking pictures of things she shouldn’t see. She gave the group a single, silent, nod.

“Everyone else, just stay on your guard. From the moment we leave this room to the moment we return, we are on a diplomatic mission to negotiate a wedding and a strengthening of ties. Anima, act happy about it. Everyone else, remain calm, in control, and alert. Let’s go.”

****

Malekith met the royal party on the surface of Svartalfheim, which was cool and dim with almost no vegetation or life anywhere. He surveyed them all carefully.

Anima, now that he actually bothered to look at her, was quite pretty. She had skin that was noticeably darker than her father’s and grandfather’s, and thick wavy brown hair framing two rather brilliant blue eyes, not all that dimmer than Malekith’s own.

There had been a time, not all that long ago really, when Malekith’s race had conducted several raids into Midgard to steal away mortal women and men for pleasure. Hair that thick was not a Dark Elf trait, but it was exotic enough to be desirable, and there was something rather attractive about their round-topped ears that made the Elves want to touch them. Had Malekith not been planning to destroy the nine realms and everyone in it, he might have been tempted to accept her purely on her looks alone.

“Your Majesty,” Malekith said in greeting, his eyes flicking to look at King Bor. “Your Grace,” he added to Anima, looking her over a second time.

“Your Majesty,” King Bor replied as Anima curtsied deeply.

“Allow me to escort you inside, the surface of our realm is harsh and unforgiving,” Malekith said.

His men formed an escort around them and the group followed him down the nearby stairway and into the world below.

Their bags were taken by servants and Malekith led them all into an elevator, which took them even further down. The air grew warmer as they sank deeper into the realm’s crust. Unseen by anyone else, Bor gave Anima a slight nudge to remind her to start talking.

“Your Majesty, is the whole realm of Svartalfheim located beneath the surface?” she asked him.

Malekith turned to look at her, “Our realm is a dark place, filled with harsh weather and little life – other than us – but beneath the ground is more suitable. I will show you my palace soon, it is not so harsh.”

Anima gave him a smile. “I’m sure you have made it beautiful,” she said.

The elevator stopped and the group followed Malekith out and down a long corridor. At the end there was a balcony looking out over a large chasm, into which had been built a city. 

“Oh wow!” Anima exclaimed. “It’s so big! I mean, I knew Svartalfheim was a large realm, larger than Asgard by far, but I never imagined such a large city could be built entirely underground. How are you supporting the roof?”

“We do not discuss our building techniques with outsiders,” Malekith said, suddenly alert.

“A good thing too,” Bor said from behind him. “My granddaughter has a mortal’s curiosity, and a mortal’s naivety. The secrets of your engineers should remain yours.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Anima said at once. “I was just marvelling at how impressive it all was.”

Malekith accepted the apology with a nod, and led them down to a transportation vehicle, which carried them down the side of the chasm and through the city. 

The entire place was built of stone, reinforced by means known only to the Dark Elf engineers. The place was barely lit, and what light there was, was dim and glowed a sickly yellow colour.

The palace stood at the centre of the city, and was a large, square structure with defensive balconies on all sides, but no towers. It didn’t need them, any attack on the palace was unlikely to come from above. 

“How far down are we?” Anima asked as they stepped out of the transport. 

“One and a half kilometres from the surface,” Malekith said.

“How do you get air down this far?” Anima asked.

“Engineering,” Malekith said.

Anima didn’t ask any more questions as they headed inside, which Malekith was glad about. Her chattiness annoyed him already.

He led them to a room which had more light that the others, although it was still very dim to their eyes. “Please,” he said. “Take some refreshment.”

There was wine, and Bor and Anima accepted a glass, while their escort declined.

Malekith had a glass himself and sipped on it slowly. “I will have the servants show you to your rooms soon,” he said. “But first I thought we ought to talk a while. It has been a long time since our two realms had close communication.”

“Twelve years,” Bor said. “At Anima’s coming of age celebration.”

“Yes,” Malekith said. “It was very bright. My realm is not very bright. It is dark and dim, and we Elves prefer it that way. Do you like the dark, Princess Anima?”

Anima smiled a nervous looking smile. “It’s customary to adapt to new realms, is it not? I will have to research a spell to help me see better, should you want me to visit again.”

Malekith looked thoughtful. “You can do such a thing? See through darkness with a spell?”

“It’s been done before, although not by me,” Anima said. “Not yet.”

“I see,” Malekith said. “What other spells do you think you might need, were you to… visit… again?”

“Just that one,” Anima said. “Mortals can eat Dark Elf food, and the water is the same. It’s a comfortable temperature in here.”

Malekith smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I have heard, however that you are an exceptional talent when it comes to seidr, I would like very much to see a demonstration.”

Anima glanced over at Bor, who gave her a nod.

“What would you like me to do?” she asked Malekith.

He smiled at her. “Can you create an illusion? We Dark Elves love illusion magic.”

He glanced quickly at Bor, but the Asgardian king didn’t say anything. Malekith was surprised. He was certain that, given such an easy opening, that Bor would have made some comment about Dark Elves only being good for illusions, or some other insult regarding their hidden nature. Instead he received nothing, and was mildly horrified to realise that Bor might actually be serious about marrying his granddaughter to Malekith after all.

Anima raised her hands and stood still. Malekith waited as politely as he was capable of as a full minute passed. Then the room filled with a thousand flowers of all different types.

“I’ve been practicing this one,” Anima said, as Malekith looked around at the indoor garden his receiving room had become. “I thought it might make my sister happy during winter. Nal loves flowers, and she misses them when it’s cold.”

Malekith reached out and gently drew his fingers through the nearest flower. It offered no resistance, which was a relief. Such an illusion was impressive, but not any more so than what his own sorcerers could create. Had the flowers had substance however…

“Do you like flowers? Or do you prefer something else?” Anima asked.

“I am rarely in the presence of flowers to be able to say if I like them or not,” Malekith said. “But you are quite talented. There are a lot of colours here.”

****

Later on the group was shown to their rooms and given time to settle in. Anima changed for dinner, pulling out one of her more formal dresses that the servant had packed with a sigh of defeat. She wanted to ask King Bor how she had gone, whether he approved of her line of questioning, or whether she was being distracting enough, but his orders had been clear. Remain in her role until they were back on Asgard. If she was not doing well then he would have to find a way to signal it to her subtly.

There was a knock on her door. It was King Bor, who had come to escort her to dinner. “Tonight is about you and Malekith getting to know one another,” he said as he held out his arm for her to take. “I expect you to be engaging.”

The advice was for the benefit of anyone who might be listening, she knew, because he’d already taken her through the expected activities of the next three days before they had left Asgard. Tonight was officially all about social chatter, but during the evening there would be a time when Malekith and Bor had a quiet conversation fo their own, just to see how things were going and whether they both thought things could continue. Tomorrow Malekith would almost certainly have arranged an activity for them to do – a tour of the city, or a magic demonstration by his sorcerers – before the second evening would be spent discussing the actual details of the betrothal, should things have progressed successfully to that point. If Malekith had any objections it was up to him to raise them at the second evening’s discussion. If she had any, then she had to tell King Bor on the second afternoon, so that he could take them into account.

For now she walked on his arm into Malekith’s feast hall, wondering at what point her life had changed so much that her grandfather actually involved her in things instead of ignoring her the way he always had.

Youth, she realised. Asgard was a realm of the young. People didn’t age much until they were in their last thousand years of life, prior to that a few grey hairs and a couple of laughter lines were all that could be seen. Now that she was eternally young, Anima was at last being included. It struck her as being incredibly unfair, but there was nothing she could do about it.

****

Once everyone had left to go to the feast, a shadow detached itself from the wall and began making its way down the corridors and out into the city. It disappeared behind a wall and emerged as an elf with rather nondescript features.

Nourab made her way through the city with ease, travelling towards the eastern end, where the military barracks were located. She slipped past the guards on duty with ease and within moments had reached the central command area where she became a shadow once more, and slipped inside.

The barracks guards were not acting like people who were on high alert, as they probably should be during a foreign visit. Nourab suspected that whatever she would find inside would not be of much interest based on that fact alone. Malekith, whatever he might be planning, was not planning it close to his palace.

Nevertheless, Nourab had a mission, and so she snuck inside as far as the commander’s office, and settled down to wait. Sooner or later the man would have to leave for food or the toilet, and when that happened, Nourab would make her move.

****

On the surface, far above, another shadow had finally made it to the far side of the realm. Loki had hitched a ride on the underside of a military flyer, one which he had teleported to within seconds of the Bifrost dropping the party at Svartalfheim’s approved landing site. Bor may not want him along, but what Bor wanted had never stopped Loki before and it most definitely would not do so now.

The military flyer landed at a surface base, and Loki hopped off quickly before he was crushed. He moved silently across the landing pad, careful not to leave any footprints in his wake, and hid himself down next to some storage crates.

Little wonder Malekith wanted to take the party underground as quickly as possible. The military site Loki had been flown into was enormous. He could see huge sheds surrounding him in every direction. The sound of construction was deafening and coming from everywhere at once. 

He crept up to the nearest shed and peaked inside. His eyes widened with interest at what he saw. A transport ship, capable of holding a thousand soldiers if his estimate was correct. If every shed he could see held something similar then Malekith was planning to move approximately a hundred thousand troops to his chosen target.

Loki slipped across to the next shed and glanced inside. His suspicions confirmed, he turned and looked instead for the command centre. Maybe he could find some actual plans which would tell him exactly what was going on. 

****

Malekith was already sick of Bor’s presence. The King wasn’t saying much, apparently preferring Malekith to get to know Anima without interference, but his was the kind of presence which filled any room he was in, and so Malekith could _feel_ him, even though he was just sitting there. 

To distract himself from Bor’s aura, Malekith tried to engage Anima in conversation. “You mentioned researching spells, do you enjoy that sort of thing?” he asked.

“Very much,” Anima said. “I’m a researcher at heart. I want to know everything about everything.”

“That’s a lot of knowledge,” Malekith said.

On the other side of the room, he made eye-contact with Algrim, who despite still being a little weak, had been determined to come in order to keep an eye on Bor’s escort. Algrim gave him what Malekith felt was an encouraging look. He didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. 

“I know it’s a lot, and I’ll never learn it all, but I intend to try. Right now I am researching the history of Ragnarok,” Anima said. “Do the Dark Elves have any stories about it?”

Malekith almost deflected her question, as he had been doing since she first opened her mouth, but he caught himself at the last minute. Ragnarok was an interesting story, after all.

“Our sages tell of a time long before Asgard, when the eight realms were in total darkness,” he said. “We were the first of the races to be created by the power of Yggdrasil, and all was well during that time, when there was no light, and no others to be in conflict with. Of course, times changed, and with each new realm more light flooded into Yggdrasil, until the Light Elves appeared. Alfheim lies within a triple-sun system, and it never goes dark as a result. Our people thought that it was over, that Yggdrasil had finally finished its creations, but then there was one last realm, Asgard. It came from dust and ashes, pulled together by powerful spells and the will of Yggdrasil, and upon it the Aesir rose up, fully formed – like us Dark Elves were – and not evolved slowly like the other inhabitants of the nine realms. We were the first and they the last, but when Ragnarok arrives they will be the first and we the last, or so our story goes. Once again Yggdrasil will return to darkness as the power fades from the nine realms, and then there will be darkness once more. Only the cold and dark of deepest space shall outlive it.”

Anima’s eyes were wide. “Your Ragnarok tale is of the whole nine realms’ destruction,” she said. “Jotunheim’s is only of Asgard, Asgard’s is of the whole nine realms _or_ just Asgard, depending on who you talk to. I wish I knew the truth.”

The truth, thought Malekith behind his indulgent smile, was that his peoples’ version was the correct one, because he was going to ensure it. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Our sages have written on the subject, although the writings are in Dark Elven text. Perhaps I could send you a translated copy?” he offered.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Anima said brightly.

Malekith glanced up at Bor, who looked away, but not before he saw the look of approval on the king’s face. Maybe this marriage offer was truly legitimate? Maybe Bor did not suspect Malekith of acquiring the Aether after all?

****

Bor found his way to Malekith’s side after another hour or so, and greeted the King with a nod of respect. 

“You seem to be getting along well, or am I mistaken?” he asked.

Malekith gave him a small smile. “She is very charming,” he said, noncommittally.

“I am not a subtle man, Malekith, do you like her well enough to continue with a betrothal or do we take our leave?” Bor asked.

Malekith looked surprised, but hid it as best he could. “I think strengthening ties between our realms would be beneficial,” he said. “And I think she has enough magic to make herself comfortable here. I don’t find her objectionable, although if you are hoping for affection at this early stage – ”

“I would not presume,” Bor said. “I met my own wife at my wedding, I know that affection of any kind cannot be rushed.”

“Then as long as you have no objection, I have none of my own,” Malekith said. “Of course, I would be a bad husband if I were to neglect her needs. Mortals need sunlight and colours around them. If we were to arrange the wedding for a few years hence, say, in three more years or so, then I could ensure her rooms are to her liking.”

“Three years? Perhaps during the Convergence?” Bor suggested.

“Perhaps just after?” Malekith countered. “The Convergence will no doubt be a busy time for both our realms, as it’s not a common event.”

“True, true, in fact you just reminded me of something, Anima’s sister will be away on another realm during the Convergence, and I’m certain she would like all her sisters to attend. Afterwards or before would be better,” Bor said.

“Afterwards,” Malekith said. “To be certain I can finish the modifications she will require.”

Bor gave him a smile and held up his glass. “To your marriage, and our realms growing closer.”

****

“He’s going to attack Asgard on or before the Convergence,” Bor said bluntly the second they were back in Asgard’s security room. “No one needs three years to refurbish a bloody room.”

“I gained little of note from the city barracks,” Nourab said. “Although he has been supplying a large amount of food to an additional barracks, implying that it is significantly larger than the one I infiltrated.”

“I got nothing on the scans,” Urai said.

“My spells picked up very little in the city, but a faint trace of metal from the other side of the realm, enough to indicate that there is something very large over there,” Sanstri said.

“Are you certain Asgard is the target?” Odin asked.

Bor nodded curtly. “He’s held a grudge against us for a long time now, delaying a marriage by three years when both parties are seemingly on the same page is ridiculous, if Asgard isn’t his target, then it’s someone he knows we wouldn’t approve of, someone we would be honour bound to defend. He has no intention of marrying Anima, I can tell you that much.”

“Asgard is indeed his target, and he will attack during the Convergence with a hundred thousand men at his back. He is building more than a hundred ships on the far side of the realm for this purpose,” said Loki, making everyone in the room jump. A moment before he had not been there, now he was lounging in Bor’s favourite chair.

“Get out of my chair,” Bor said. “And how do you know that?”

Loki swung his legs around and rose from the chair in what Bor felt was an insulting manner. “I ignored you, went to Svartalfheim, travelled further than your spies would ever be able to given I didn’t have to be present every morning, and went and had a look. The plans for the invasion are here,” he tossed down a tiny image disc which glittered as it slid on the table. “The Convergence will cut down the travel time to almost nothing. He intends to raze Asgard to the ground. Once we’re gone he will travel realm by realm and destroy them all. He’s gone completely mental.”

Bor entered the disc into a slot in the table and everyone leaned in to see as the images Loki took appeared in front of them.

“He’s got four times our men,” Odin said. “We can’t build our numbers up that far in time.”

“How though? The Dark Elves lost a great deal of soldiers in the Titan war. He can’t have built them back up already, surely?” Anima said, reminding them that she was there.

“This is now a war chamber,” Bor said. “You’ve done your part; you can go.”

“At least tell her whether she has to sign the betrothal papers,” Loki said.

“You should go too,” Bor said.

“No,” Loki said.

Odin gave a deep sigh and spoke. “Loki has fought a war before, and fought well, he should be here, but then so should many others. Let us call a proper meeting to discuss this, and unless we want Malekith to suspect we know about his plans, Anima will have to sign the papers, but regardless she will not be marrying Malekith, I will not allow it.”

Bor looked over at him, about to remind him that despite being their father, the decision of who they would marry lay with their king. He saw Odin’s expression and dropped it.

“I will call a meeting. Anima can sit at the back in case she has anything to contribute, but afterwards she can go. Loki, you may stay, is it too much to hope for that you will be silent?”

“Far too much,” Loki said at once.

Bor rolled his eyes. “One hour, I want everyone relevant to the discussion back here in one hour.” 

“Did the reinforcements you sent to Hela arrive in time to catch her?” Loki asked Odin as everyone filed out.

“They did, and now we are in communication with her, at least,” Odin said. “If we are going to war then we will have to recall her.”

“I’m not sure if she’ll be happy or sad about that,” Loki said.


	63. Making Plans

The meeting was packed with a mixture of military personnel and royal advisors. The three sisters sat on chairs against the back war, away from the table where the more important men and women gathered. Anima was there in case her observations were needed. Daianya had been sent for by Odin who thought she ought to see how war councils were run, and Nal was there because when she showed up alongside her sisters she glared at the guard on door duty until he crumbled and fetched her a chair.

“Right. Everyone quiet and listen,” Bor said once everyone had arrived. “We’ve come back from Svartalfheim and we now know the following things. One, Malekith has succeeded in building more than fifty troop transport ships and in on track to finish another fifty before the Convergence in three years. Two, based on the number and size of these ships his troop numbers are somewhere around a hundred thousand soldiers. Three, Asgard is his target and he intends to leave nothing standing and no one alive. I’m open to suggestions about our next move.”

“We could be ready to attack his shipyards within the next month,” General Hymir said. “If we destroy them the size of his army won’t be of any relevance.”

“We can cut down the number but we won’t get them all,” Loki said. “The finished ones have been launched and are waiting further out in the system for when they are needed. Taking out the fifty unfinished ones will hurt him, but not so much he cannot carry out his plans.”

“How does he even have so many? I thought the Dark Elves suffered the most casualties from the war,” General Solveig said. 

“My observations show that at least some of his soldiers are made up of young recruits,” Nourab said. “They are in training, but will not be a match for an Asgardian warrior in single combat.”

“He’s not planning on using them in single combat,” Loki said. “Weight of numbers is what he is relying on.”

“That and the women,” Odin said, scanning the report made by Mourab. “In the war, the Dark Elf women were left at home. But this list of soldiers assigned to the barracks you infiltrated has more than forty percent female soldiers in it. He’s using everyone he can find to make up the numbers.”

“So we can’t attack the ships, give me a better idea,” Bor said.

“He’s not planning to attack until the Convergence,” Odin said. “I suggest we plan for a counter attack but do nothing in the meantime which would make him suspect we know of his plans.”

“That’s risky,” General Hymor said. “If we leave it until the Convergence then he will have the shortest path to Asgard.”

“We still have a shorter one,” said Bor. “The Bifrost is faster than ship travel, even with the shortcut provided by the Convergence. But if we fail to stop them from leaving Svartalfheim then Asgard will be under direct threat. We need a backup plan.”

“We could invade and depose him,” General Hymir said, as a number of political advisors shook their heads.

“It would be better to avoid any conflict with the Dark Elves at all until we absolutely have to,” Odin said.

“So says the God of War,” Loki said.

“Indeed I do, war is not the same as battle, I would remind you. It is strategy, and right now our strategy is to avoid conflict and battle as long as possible. Remember, he has done nothing to us yet and his military build-up is not widely known. If we were to attack him now then the other nine realms would only see us as aggressors, attacking an enemy they do not know is as strong as he is, and just after coordinating a betrothal as well,” Odin said, gesturing faintly to Anima. “We would win the battle, I believe, but we would lose a much greater war. No, I advise that we prepare our army and wait for the right moment, even if that moment is seconds from Malekith launching his attack.”

“With the right defences, Malekith is still at a disadvantage,” General Solveig said. “We have the wall that can protect the palace – ”

“Apart from the top, which still isn’t finished,” Loki interjected.

“We have our defensive turrets; we can add more. We have our own ships for troop transport across Asgard, they are armed and highly manoeuvrable. We can concentrate our efforts on improving all of these things, and then when the Convergence is upon us, if Malekith does indeed look to be carrying out his plan, then we can take the fight to him and, hopefully, keep the battle on Svartalfheim.”

“He’ll have to bring in all the ships if he wants his soldiers to board them,” Loki pointed out. “So in the days leading up to the Convergence we may well have a good chance at sabotage.”

Bor looked from one to the other, before his gaze came to rest on Odin. “What are you thinking?” he asked his son.

Odin took a deep breath. “I think we have three years to work out our best strategy, and what seems to be the best path now may change over time. For now, with Malekith’s ships out of our reach, I think we ought to concentrate on defences as General Solveig suggests. I think we should sent spies to watch over Malekith’s plans and report on how they are progressing. If anything changes, we will have to change with it. If we can find a way to cripple his ships that are currently already launched then I think we should take it, otherwise we need to stay watchful and cautious. Remember, he doesn’t know we are aware of his plans. If he realises then he will certainly change them. We must try to prevent that from happening. Surprises are our enemy as much as Malekith is.”

Bor nodded. “I want every troop ship to be upgraded to the best weapons we have. I want the turrets upgraded as well, and new ones built. Hide them amongst the taller buildings. I don’t want any trader seeing what we are up to and reporting that to anyone across the nine realms. One way or another it will find its way to Malekith’s ears if it gets out. We will meet again in a month to discuss progress and further ideas. I believe that this will end in battle, and a bloody one at that, but for the first time we have time to plan, do not waste it.”

The meeting came to an end, and the three sisters exchanged looks.

“So we will soon be at war again,” Nal said. “Hela will be delighted.”

“Will she come back, do you think?” Anima asked. “Father said she was incredibly focussed on finding Thanos.”

“She’ll be back,” Daianya said. “She won’t want to miss this, and besides, the King will want her there. Hela may not be the best trained fighter in the world but she’s impossible to kill and can generate infinite knives. If she were let loose on an army of barely trained Dark Elves they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Maybe they should just send Hela down there to deal with it,” Nal suggested as the three of them walked back to their tower. 

“Will you be a part of the fighting by then?” Anima asked Daianya.

“I don’t know,” Daianya said. “I’m doing well in my training, I’m now in the most senior level of the senior classes, but graduating to full Valkyrie has to be decided by General Solveig.”

“Do you want to fight?” Anima asked.

Daianya shook her head. “I don’t think anyone should ever _want_ to fight, but I am prepared to,” she said. “I did not join the Valkyrie as a hobby.”

“I hate fighting. I always go to pieces,” Anima said.

“Good thing you and I will be here on Asgard then,” Nal said. “You can help the healers afterwards; they’ll appreciate your spells.”

“That’s an important point,” Anima said. “I can cast strong healing spells into crystals and rune-stones for them. I can build up a really big stockpile in three years.”

“The army and the Valkyrie both us rune-stones on the battlefield to prevent wounds from bleeding out,” Daianya said. “We could use more; there’re twenty five thousand warriors in the army and twenty thousand Valkyrie. If we all had two each that’d be a great help.”

“Ninety thousand rune-stones? I can do it, I know I can,” Anima said determinedly.

****

Out in the furthest reaches of space, Hela stalked angrily back and forth in front of the terrified man. She was, to her great annoyance, accompanied by twenty warriors hand-picked by Odin to provide her with back up on her mission. Because her father had been the one to choose them, they were all honourable and noble and true, three things Hela felt got in the way of her goal.

Nevertheless she tried to act as her father would want her to.

“No one here wants to hurt you, we just heard from a trader on Angos Prime that you sold some supplies and ship components to a Titan. We would very much like to know where that transaction took place and where he went after you were done,” she said, trying to smile.

Her smile seemed to make him even more afraid, judging by the wet patch that appeared on his pants as he trembled before her.

“I never saw a Titan, I swear!” he said, eyes shifting desperately to the men behind her as though begging them for mercy. “It was an Ornath! An Ornath!”

Hela sighed and turned away from him. Ornaths were the size of Titans and a very similar colour. The man may well be telling the truth.

“Your Grace, I have received a communication recalling us to Asgard,” said one of the men, running up to the group. “Direct order from the king.”

Hela gritted her teeth together and fought not to swear. “Oh, goody,” she said.

****

Daianya stood shoulder to shoulder with the other senior trainees and listened as General Solveig went over their new training regime, it was heavily focussed on Pegasus manoeuvres. 

“I want all your efforts to be focussed on the guiding of a riderless Pegasus through skies filled with battle fire,” she said. “I want you to be able to deliver them safely to a waiting Valkyrie on the ground or in the air. This is not an easy task; it will take riders of impeccable training and skill to accomplish. For these exercises you will be training with full Valkyrie. Do not disappoint them.”

Daianya and Tarah exchanged a look of excitement, which they quickly tried to cover before anyone else saw. 

The full Valkyrie cohort was divided into Squadrons, led by a Leader and a Second. The Squadrons were then combined into Flanks, whose movements in wartime were coordinated across the battlefield by General Solveig and Commander Gunhild via their three Sub Commanders. Three trainees were assigned per squadron.

The Squadron Leader of the group Daianya was assigned to was named Nindra, and she was built like a barrel, with enormous muscles that Daianya was instantly jealous of.

“Right,” she said. “Squad take to the air. Myrdri, I want you to lose your mount about halfway through the training sequence. You, Princess, I want you to bring her a new one, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Daianya made a mental note to have a private word with Leader Nindra afterwards about not using her title in training, but for now she mounted up and took the guide-rope for a second Pegasus. 

The Squad worked well together. They took to the air and ducked and weaved around, gliding past one another in the air with only inches of space between them. One false move and they would be out of the sky.

One false, albeit on purpose move, and Myrdri was indeed falling out of the sky.

Daianya watched as one of the other Valkyrie caught Myrdri in mid-air and swung her up and backwards, to where another Valkyrie was waiting. Myrdri was tossed effortlessly from hand to hand as Daianya urged her Pegasus to ride forwards, leading the other one behind her. She saw the pattern of the throws and swung around towards a new Valkyrie, one Myrdri had not yet encountered. A second later, Myrdri was flying towards her. The Valkyrie caught her easily and tossed her directly on the back of the spare mount. Daianya let go of the guide rope and flew her own Pegasus back down to the ground.

“Good,” Nindra said. “Let’s see how you do, Braids.”

Tarah shot Daianya a quick look before taking to the air for her turn.

The exercise started off easy, but soon became more and more difficult as obstacles were added. Blunt arrows were fired from the ground, stunning energy beams were added after lunch. Daianya was knocked off her mount so many times her chest and back were one giant bruise. All her training felt utterly irrelevant when put up against the battle-hardened and determined Valkyrie. 

By the end of the day the trainees all staggered back to the baths with slumped shoulders and aching bones.

“You did well today,” General Solveig said, to general disbelief.

“I thought I was doing well, and then today happened,” Tarah said. “Now I want to give up.”

“Don’t. I don’t want to face tomorrow alone,” Daianya said, sinking into the hot water with a whimper.

“I wonder why they suddenly decided to change our training?” Norah asked.

Daianya said nothing. The war council’s deliberations were confidential, for good reason.

“Maybe they just thought it was time?” she said instead, picking up a bowl and pouring water over her head. It ran off without reaching her scalp and she sighed in defeat.

“It just seems strange, like yesterday we were still practices melee attacks on each other and now we are suddenly paired with real Valkyrie,” Norah persisted as Daianya took a big breath and dunked herself under the water.

She came up again to see that most of her hair had stubbornly stayed floating on the surface while she’d been down there.

“Do you want me to push it under while you dunk?” Tarah offered, trying not to giggle.

“You know what? Yes, that’d be great,” Daianya said.

She ducked under the surface again as Tarah grabbed handfuls of thick hair and pushed them under the water. This time when Daianya came up her hair was finally wet enough to wash.

“I think we should all take this as an opportunity to learn,” Daianya said, reaching for the shampoo. “I’ll bet by the time they finish working with us we’ll all be experts at flying through anything.”

****

Anima stared at the scroll in front of her. It was very ornate and covered in runes that glittered with golden ink.

It was her marriage contract.

“And you promise no matter what I won’t ever have to actually go through with it?” she asked, looking from Bor to Odin and back again.

“I promise,” Odin said at once, before looking over at his father.

“I swear on my honour, I will not enforce this contract,” Bor said.

Anima picked up the pen and signed her name. The ink gleamed in the glow of the light on Bor’s desk.

“If you break your promise, I shall turn you into a copy of Anima and send you in her place,” Loki said from over by the fire where he was sulking about having her sign it at all.

“I will not break my vow,” Bor said. “We will defeat Malekith and he shall be killed for ever thinking he can invade our realm, but if by some miracle we end up not going to war under natural circumstances then I shall tear the contract up, thus insulting him so badly that we will end up fighting to the death anyway.”

Loki turned to look at him over the back of the chair. “You had better…” he said.

“Don’t threaten me, Trickster,” Bor warned. 

“…do it where I can see, I’d love to see Malekith’s face as you insult him like that,” Loki finished with a smirk.

Bor just rolled his eyes and gathered up the scroll now that the ink had dried. “I’ll have this sent to Svartalfheim. It’ll help Malekith think he’s gotten away with hiding his plans from us. It wouldn’t hurt for you to send him a few letters over the next three years,” he added to Anima. “Betrothed couples usually do.”

Anima gave him a bow and a tight smile. She wouldn’t know what to say to Malekith. It had been hard enough trying to find three days’ worth of conversation.

“I’ll try to find some things to tell him,” she said.

“Let me write the letters,” Loki said from the chair. “I’d like to have a bit of fun.”

“You manage to do that already,” Odin said. “I will read any letters that you send and are sent. If you want I can ask a scribe to draft them for you, you only have to copy them out and sign them.”

“No, I’ll write to him,” Anima said. “He’s met me now; he might be able to tell if a scribe wrote to him instead because it won’t sound like me.”

“Didn’t you say he promised you a translation of the Dark Elf version of Ragnarok?” Loki asked. “Write to him about your research into that. It’s a safe topic, has nothing to do with war, is already of interest to you, it’s perfect.”

Anima nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Loki, that’s a good idea,” she said.

“Three years is not very long,” Odin said. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then Malekith will be dealt with once and for all.”

Anima nodded and gave Bor another bow before leaving the room. 

Loki turned and looked at Bor and Odin over the back of the chair again. “She’s not a practiced liar, is our Anima,” he said. “Nor a fighter, really she’s just an academic with a great deal of loyalty and love for her home.”

“We’ll take care of her,” Odin said. “I would never put my own daughter in harm’s way.”

“Well that’s one betrothal sorted out,” Bor said jokingly. “If only the next one was so easy.”

“Next one?” Loki asked.

“Nal’s still to visit King Grundroth to see how they like each other,” Bor said. “I’d normally go with her but he invited her for the Convergence, so she’ll have to go alone.”

Loki frowned at him. “She won’t agree to marry him,” he said.

“She’ll do what’s best for Asgard,” Bor countered.

Loki turned his head and gave Odin a pointed look.

“Nal’s happiness is an important factor,” Odin said sternly.

“The continual supply of Jotunheim steel is another one,” Bor said.

“Find another way,” Loki said.

“If you are so concerned about it, why don’t you go with her on her visit?” Bor suggested. “Yggdrasil knows I’d rather have you away from here any chance I get.”

“Loki can’t go, he’s too important for the battle,” Odin said.

“Nice to be appreciated,” Loki said.

“Nal will have to make do with a small escort of reserve warriors. We’ll need everyone else available for the fight,” Odin continued. “And frankly, I’m relieved to know at least one of my children will be safely on another realm. If this counter attack goes badly, even if we win, Asgard is likely to take damage.”

“We won’t let it come to that,” Bor said. “Our defences will be stronger than any time in Asgard’s history, we will launch our attack before they even know we are coming. Nal will be on Jotunheim for diplomatic reasons only, everyone else will be safe here. We have three years to make sure of it.”


	64. A Role to Play

Malekith stared at the contract in front of him. Until now he had held real doubts about whether King Bor had been serious or whether it was some kind of trick, but the contract carried his official seal, and contained all the usual fine details about what was expected by both parties. The only thing missing was the date of the wedding, which Bor had written in ‘to be decided after the Convergence’. Princess Anima’s signature was written at the bottom, all Malekith had to do was sign it and he would be betrothed.

He picked up the pen and glanced up at Algrim. “I’m still looking for a trick,” he confessed.

“As am I, but wherever it may be found it is not on that scroll. The masters of law looked over every line,” he said.

Malekith signed it quickly and turned away from it as though it would burn him. “There, let them think I mean to wed her.”

“I ordered the translation of the history works from the sages. You can send them to her as a gift to keep up the pretence,” Algrim said. “I thought they would be a suitable present, as our ancient history tells nothing of our realm as it is now.”

Malekith nodded curtly. “How many volumes are there?”

“Seven in total,” Algrim responded.

“I will send them one at the time, over many months. That way I won’t have to think about anything new for a while,” Malekith said. “Maybe some jewellery too, women like precious stones, and once Asgard is taken I can always take them back.”

“If we harness the Aether to its full potential, there won’t be an Asgard left,” Algrim said. “All that will remain will be ash and dust.”

“Ragnarok fulfilled,” Malekith said, smiling. “From darkness, to darkness again.”

“Your present to your new betrothed is rather ironic,” Algrim commented as they were interrupted by a servant.

“What is it?” Malekith asked.

The servant bowed low. “Your Majesty, a number of the High Lords have come to speak with you. They wait outside.”

Malekith glanced curiously at Algrim but he shook his head, he had no idea what they had come for.

“Send them in,” Malekith said.

To his surprise the number of High Lords the servant had referred to was seventeen. Almost every High Lord in the main city had come, and two more from other cities nearby. Malekith stood and waited in silence for them to speak.

“Your Majesty,” began one at last, a senior High Lord even among his peers. “We have come due to concerns among the nobility regarding your recent activities.”

“And what activities would those be?” Malekith asked, aware that his back was to the betrothal scroll and assuming that the issue was with that.

“The build-up of the army,” said the High Lord, surprising him. “You have drafted almost every able-bodied elf into the ranks. We don’t have enough to work in the cities, or to tend the mushroom farms. If you do not release at least some of them then by the year’s end we will have a famine.”

Malekith took a slow breath inwards. “I require them where they are,” he said. “The ships must be finished on time.”

“Our people will begin starving years before they are expected to be finished. A starving populous cannot build,” argued the High Lord’s spokesman.

Malekith forced a smile onto his face. “I understand your concerns. I assure you that there will be food enough for all. Plans have been made which will be carried out very shortly to eliminate the issue before it becomes a problem. Please, trust in your king, and I will ensure that there is no reason to be alarmed.”

They did not look convinced.

“May we enquire as to your plans?” the spokesman asked.

“Of course,” Malekith said. “A part of the army is very shortly going to finish with raiding trader ships now that we have all the metal we require. They will be put to good use working on the mushroom farms.”

“I see,” said the spokesman as the group began to relax. “May we have a timeline of when this is going to occur? The first harvests must be made within the month.”

“They have already received their orders and are organising their return to the realm,” Malekith said. “Do you have any more concerns? Any other issues to discuss?”

“What do you plan to do with the mortal?” A new High Lord asked. Some of the others went to shush him, but he held Malekith’s gaze. “There is no way she won’t stay loyal to her family, she can never be trusted.”

Malekith smiled more genuinely at that. “I agree,” he said. “I intend to convert some of the palace to something brighter and more cheerful for her, and then I will leave her there to do whatever it is mortals do all day. She can tell her family all about the books she’s reading or the clothes she has ordered. She will never be by my side for official matters, I can assure you of that.”

The man nodded as his shoulders visibly relaxed. No one liked the Asgardians, and while the High Lords might suspect that Malekith’s military build-up might have something to do with causing harm to Asgard, and indeed greatly cheer his plans had they known them, it was wiser to keep the invasion as secret as possible. For now, they didn’t need to know the marriage would never even take place.

“If that is all, my Lords, I must ask you to leave me to my work,” Malekith said.

They bowed to him and departed.

Algrim turned to look at him. “You have given no such order to the raiders,” he said.

Malekith held his gaze. “Have the High Lords killed. Not all at once or they will suspect, but make them have accidents, make them fall ill. I don’t care if the people starve as long as the army is fed and strong enough to fight.”

Algrim bowed deeply. “As you command, my King,” he said.

****

Hela arrived home after a few weeks. She walked down the ramp onto the landing pad with a hard and angry step. Bor’s communication had been extremely direct but completely missing any form of detail as to why she was being recalled only a few weeks after back up had arrived from Odin. She marched into the palace and headed straight for the office of the king.

“Hela darling, you are looking well,” Loki greeted her as she pushed her way past the secretary and into the room.

Hela glanced from Loki to Odin, who was sitting in the other chair, to Bor, who was seated behind his desk. For Loki to be included in a meeting with Bor meant that something more important than the King’s dislike of him was going on.

“I came to find out why my mission has been called off,” she said.

“Sit down Hela,” Bor said. “We couldn’t risk telling you anything in case our communications were intercepted, but we have gone to war.”

Hela’s eyes sparkled with sudden interest as Odin rose and fetched her a chair. “Go on,” she said, fighting a smile.

“We have proof the Dark Elves intend to invade Asgard and slaughter us all,” Bor said. “They intend to do so at the Convergence, to take advantage of the portals which will bring our worlds closer together. We have begun our defensive build up so as to be ready for them in three years. I know you want this Titan to be tracked down, but we need you here. If Malekith decides at any time to launch his plans early, we cannot have any of our strongest fighters away and unable to help. Until the Convergence is over and Malekith is defeated, you must remain on Asgard along with everyone else.”

“Can’t we just attack them now?” Hela asked, disappointed that the war was currently a secret one.

“We are at a disadvantage at the moment,” Odin said. “Our defences are not as good as they could be and Malekith’s main fleet is in space and spread out. If we attack now he can flee with the ships and there’s no telling where he will go and when he will choose to strike back. Asgard does not have a space fleet that can match him.”

Hela sighed and slumped a little in her chair. “So we wait,” she said. “I understand. Will I be permitted to track Thanos after we have won?”

“Yes,” Bor said. “If that is still what you wish to do I will not stop you.”

Hela forced a smile. “Thank you, your Majesty. For now I shall resume my duties as executioner. I don’t suppose you have anyone waiting for me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Some barmaid attacked Daianya in the street a little while ago. She’s sentenced to die but it was put on hold until you got back,” Bor said.

“You saved her for me? You didn’t ask someone else to do it?” Hela asked, sounding flattered.

“She wasn’t going anywhere, and I know you… take your work seriously,” Bor said.

“Thank you, your Majesty, I shall execute her right away,” Hela said, smiling. “May I depart?”

“Go on,” Bor said. “I need to get back to this anyway.”

Hela rose and walked out of the room as Bor, Odin and Loki went back to discussing the best way to evacuate the city to the forests and whether it would be deemed necessary once the new defences were complete.

She headed down to the executioner’s office and sauntered in, surprising the men there who had been spending their days playing games and killing nothing more than time until her return.

“Bring me the file of the barmaid,” Hela said, settling into her office. “I need to decide what to do to her.”

****

Daianya swerved through the air with determination on her face. There were missiles and energy weapons’ fire going everywhere. She dodged and weaved through it all, trying to anticipate where the shots would be as she got closer to her goal.

She almost made it. At the last second, just as the Valkyrie leapt across onto the spare mount Daianya was guiding, an arrow hit her hard under the ribs and she was knocked sideways off her Pegasus. She tumbled down through the air, teeth gritted in disappointment at having failed, before landing on the net which had been strung up below specifically to catch falling trainees.

“Keep an eye out for rogue arrows!” called Leader Nindra. “The positions of the enemy on the battlefield will be random and ever-changing. You have to keep your eyes low on the enemy as well as up on your destination!”

Daianya rolled to the edge of the net and swung to the ground. She ran back to where more pegasi were waiting and mounted up. She was a lot better than she had been when her training had started, but it was still demoralising how easily she fell over and over again.

Tarah seemed to have discovered a previously unknown talent. She rarely got hit by anything after her third training session, and her turns at flying through a battle had Nindra adding half again the firepower being thrown at the others.

Daianya watched as the other trainees took their turns, wishing she had extra eyes or a neck that swivelled all the way around. How anyone could see everything going on she had no idea.

Her turn came up again and she took to the air. Watching this way and that, focussing on her target, but not too much lest she miss something coming at her from below, she almost made it too. From this height she could see over into the execution yards, and saw the tiny yet unmistakable figure of Hela standing by the executioner’s block as someone was dragged out towards her.

Even from this distance Daianya could tell it was Milnia. She couldn’t see her features well enough, but her soul was distinct. Everyone’s soul was distinct. Daianya forgot about the battle going on around her and slowed in the air.

A blast hit her and she fell, tumbling down until she hit the net.

“What do you call that?” Yelled Nindra. “You don’t get distracted on the battlefield, distraction is death, do you hear me? Everyone say it! Distraction is death!”

Daianya rolled to the edge of the net and swung off. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My sister Hela is back. I just saw her.”

“Your sister could stand to come by for some training herself,” Nindra said curtly. “The enemy won’t care why you blinked, only that you did.”

Daianya nodded and turned to get back in line, but the knowledge that Milnia was losing her life at that very moment wouldn’t leave her alone.

She had a few minutes until her turn came again. Daianya called on her god power and looked across, through the thick walls of the training yard, across one of Nal’s gardens, through several more smaller walls and into the soul of Milnia.

She was frightened. Her head was on the block and she was being held down by two men as Hela stood over her. Daianya blinked and now she was inside of Milnia’s soul, looking out of her eyes and up at Hela, who stood there with a horrible grin on her face.

Did Hela’s mouth always look like a skull’s when she was grinning? Daianya wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Hela look genuinely happy before.

Hela summoned an axe and held it out so that Milnia could see.

“You know,” Hela said. “I’m not exactly fond of my sisters, I hate them rather a lot, actually. So while the king has ordered you to die for attacking one of them, I’m killing you because you failed at being any good at it. Either way you die though, so I suppose the distinction only matters to me.”

Hela raised the axe above her head and paused, savouring the moment. Milnia whimpered in fear, and Daianya winced and pulled away, opening her eyes to find that she was next in line to try again. She hurriedly mounted on a new Pegasus and tried to shake Milnia’s death from her mind.

When she took to the air, she deliberately did not look across at the execution yards, which is why she once again found herself falling to the net while Nindra yelled at her to pay better attention to her surroundings.

****

Hela brought the axe down with a thunk. Milnia’s head rolled away from her and she smiled as she felt the woman die. “I do love that feeling,” she said to herself. “Clean up the mess while I do the paperwork.”

She turned and headed inside, determined to get the papers finished as quickly as possible. If only Bor executed more people, she mused, then she would be able to justify having a stamp of her signature made and getting her secretary to sign everything in her name instead of doing it herself.

She went through the papers quickly, filling in the time of death, last words (none) and signing the bottom of the papers with a flourish. 

Then she sat back and sighed. The death had made her feel calm and happy, but there weren’t any more waiting for her. Bor seldom had people executed unless they had committed great crimes, and the citizens of Asgard almost never did.

But still, war. The promised battle was three years away but three years was barely anything, really. And then once again Hela would bath in blood, she would reach heights of ecstasy she hadn’t felt in so long.

Until then she would just have to be patient.

Ugh.

****

Nal was sitting with Bestla down in the cool rooms by the little pool. Anima was with them, but her attention was focussed entirely on the stones in front of her. 

“Everyone and everything in the palace has shifted to a faster pace,” Nal said. “But when I go down to the marketplace all the traders are still there, all the people are just going about their business like normal. They don’t know what’s coming, they have no idea. It feels so strange. I’m not one to gossip and chatter under normal circumstances, but now I find that when I’m in front of someone who doesn’t know about the Dark Elves it’s all I can think about.” 

Bestla smiled gently. “I imagine that’s normal,” she said.

“It doesn’t help that I have nothing to do,” Nal said. “Anima is making healing rune-stones every day, Daianya is training more than ever, Father and Loki are constantly in conference with the King, and here I sit, waiting.”

“Some people cannot do as much as others, their talents take them in a different direction,” Bestla said. “I hope that this war is more of a single battle than a drawn out conflict like the Titan War was. Fifty years of worrying that my sons and granddaughter wouldn’t come back.”

“Hela would come back,” Nal said with a slight edge of bitterness. “She’s _good_ at coming back.”

“Like cancer,” Anima said brightly, taking her eyes off the last of the stones she had brought.

“Your sister is not cancer,” Bestla chided, but without much enthusiasm.

“I maintain that she is,” Anima said.

“How are your gardens, my dear?” Bestla asked Nal, changing the subject.

“They’re fine,” Nal said. “It’s almost wintertime so most of the plants are going dormant. I’ll be pruning soon, and clearing out the last of the fallen leaves from the lawns.”

“Healers use herbs in their treatments and spells don’t they?” Bestla asked. “If you are looking for something productive to do, perhaps you can grow some. They will need a great deal if the battle becomes as big as they are expecting to be.”

Nal’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea! I have a herb garden, but it was planted with a decorative purpose, if I clear out the lawns and walkways I can make it far more productive for the space, and three years will be enough time to establish and grown a decent crop.”

“You can’t change too much, it’ll look suspicious,” Anima said. “Malekith will almost certainly have spies in Asgard. We can’t make too many obvious changes, that’s why the new defensive turrets are being built into existing buildings and disguised as upgrades.”

Nal huffed in annoyance. “I’ll use the land I was given then, it’s well outside of the city and it’s highly unlikely the spies will bother to check on it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Bestla said. “Yggdrasil knows, once the fighting starts there will be a heavy need, and if the elves actually manage to land a strike on us… well, some things don’t bear thinking of.”

“What was it like, Grandmother, growing up amongst war?” Nal asked softly.

Bestla sighed heavily and looked out over the rippling water of the pool. “It was like being in a nightmare, except every time you tried to wake yourself up you realised you couldn’t because it was real. My mother tried to protect us from the worst of it, and she mostly succeeded, but it’s hard trying to establish a new stronghold far away from there your old one was. Most of her sons had been killed trying to defend her, and so she only had a small band of fifty who were able to take her further from the fighting. I was hungry a lot, food was scarce because no one was available to hunt, and those who tried were just as likely to run into Asgardian raiders as the prey they sought. I had many brothers born after me, and all of them coded to grow up fast. By the time I reached maturity they had already taken up arms and joined the war. All the women made warrior children, aggressive, fast-growing, strong and terrifying. It was little wonder the Asgardians told tales of us being monsters, our mothers created their children to be exactly that.”

“What kind of monster was Loki?” Nal asked without thinking.

“What?”

“You knew him growing up, you told me once. That means he was a son born during the war, so, what was he meant to be?” Nal asked.

Bestla gave a shallow shrug. “You would have to ask his mother, she made him,” she said. “Maybe she didn’t make him to be a monster at all. Maybe she just wanted someone to make her laugh.”

“We could all do with a laugh,” Nal said. “It’s going to be a long three years.”

“On the contrary,” Bestla said. “I think it will go by very quickly, especially if you keep busy.”


	65. Preparations Over Time

**Spring: Two years and nine months until the Convergence**

Anima was eating her breakfast when there was a knock on the door and a servant entered, carrying a package. “It’s from the Dark World, your Grace,” she said, holding it out with hands that trembled slightly. Anima took it and noticed that the packaging had already been opened and, presumably, the contents examined.

“Thank you,” she said.

She carried it over to her table and called on her magic to do an examination of her own. She probed the package carefully, seeking tricks or curses, but found none. Finally satisfied, she undid the badly retied ribbon and unwrapped the package.

It was a book. Malekith had sent her the translation of the Dark Elf history as promised. Anima turned the pages carefully, still feeling cautious about the contents, but other than the tightly packed words which filled each page there was nothing to be seen. Curious, and unable to help herself, Anima sank back into her chair and started to read.

She was still reading an hour later when Odin knocked on her door and asked to come in.

“Please, have a seat. I’m guessing you’re here about the book?” Anima said. 

He nodded. “It arrived last night, our sorcerers went over it with everything they have but found nothing.”

“Me either,” Anima said. “I don’t think he wants to give away his plans by attacking me though.”

“That was my thought as well. We’ll continue to check anything he sends you just in case, but I think he’s playing the same game we are, and because of that you are safe,” Odin said.

“I will need to write him a reply, won’t I?” Anima asked. “I’ll have to thank him for this if nothing else.”

“You will, yes. Or rather, I will, and you can sign it. Let me know if there’s anything in particular I should mention,” Odin said.

“You are going to write to Malekith and pretend to be me?” Anima said, a smile coming to her face. “You are going to court Malekith?”

“It’s a matter of realm security,” Odin said as she started to giggle.

“I know, but still, Father, I don’t think he’s right for you,” Anima teased.

Odin rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly. “Your Grandfather wants you to read over the book closely,” he said, trying to get back to business. “He and I both doubt Malekith would be foolish enough to leave information on a weakness we can exploit in a book he sends to you, but just in case we would like to know if there’s anything relevant in the pages.”

“It’s actually really interesting,” Anima said. “It’s starts with darkness. Apparently in Yggdrasil’s younger days all the realms were in darkness, but then light began to form over the other realms and millions of years passed and all the races of the nine realms evolved. But Svartalfheim never developed light. It was always cloaked in darkness right from the beginning. The book says it’s because they live among the roots of Yggdrasil, whereas the other races live on the branches. Do you think that’s true?”

“It’s true that Yggdrasil has physical roots as well as mystical and spiritual ones,” Odin said. “The physical ones lie on Mímisbrunnr, and the easiest path to them without the Bifrost or a spaceship is through the hidden pathways via Svartalfheim.”

“I’ve heard of the hidden pathways before but I’ve never studied them,” Anima said as her eyes lit up at the thought of new knowledge.

“Please read the book first,” Odin said. “It’s more important right now.”

“I know,” Anima said at once. “The pathways can wait, although, can Malekith use them to move around the nine realms? He can’t invade Asgard that way, can he?”

“The hidden pathways are all different and yet all have things in common,” Odin said. “One of the things they have in common is their size. It would take an army a week to march through the widest pathway. They are usually used only by a few people at the time. I don’t doubt that Malekith’s spies use them to sneak around, Yggdrasil knows we do.”

Anima relaxed, comforted by her father’s reassurances. “We’re going to win this, aren’t we?” she asked.

Odin looked at her steadily. “Yes, Anima, we are. Malekith’s army is large, but it cannot be well trained, not in the time he has built it. A well trained warrior can take down ten badly trained foes, and he only outnumbers us four to one.”

“Not counting the Valkyrie,” Anima said.

Odin smiled. “Two to one, or slightly over, so you see there is nothing to fear. All we have to do is build up our defences enough that he cannot fire at us through the portals caused by the Convergence, the battle itself is as good as won.”

****

Daianya almost made it out that time. She had delivered the Pegasus to the falling Valkyrie and was on her way back when the strike exploded near her, throwing her off her mount. She scowled as she fell, waiting for her back to hit the net.

At the end of the session she listened hard to Nindra’s feedback about keeping her eyes on the battlefield and never losing her guard even for a moment, before heading for the barracks to wash away the dirt and sweat of the session. 

“Come with us,” a Valkyrie called out to the trainees. “You’re training with us, you might as well take bath and take lunch with us too.”

The group of trainees turned and joined the group heading to a separate barracks where the full Valkyrie lived and trained.

The baths there were a little nicer than the ones the trainees used. Daianya put it down to not having to share with the little ones.

“Something’s up,” said one woman the second they had grabbed their soap and towels. “Normally us new Valkyrie would be on pegasi replacement duty for at least a century. They’ve brought you up fifty years early and are putting us all in fighting squads. There’s a battle coming, and it’s a big one.”

Daianya did her best to keep her face blank. Tarah turned to look at her and her eyes widened. “What do you know?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” Daianya lied.

“Everyone else looks curious, but you look like you are trying to keep your face blank,” Tarah said.

Daianya cursed internally at being read so easily. 

“I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? But are they going to tell us anything?” the first woman went on.

Tarah’s hand slid into Daianya’s and tugged, pulling her away from the crowd.

“What is going on?” she whispered once they were further back.

“I’m not allowed to say,” Daianya said.

“Is it war though?” Tarah asked. “Please, my mother is a Sub-Commander. If there’s to be war she will be in the middle of it.”

Daianya looked at her, torn. “I’m not allowed,” she hissed.

Tarah nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t say yes but you won’t say no. War is coming.”

She stepped back into the main crowd of the group, which was still theorising why their training schedule had been changed. Daianya turned away and heading into the bathing room. She had to finish quickly and talk to Odin, or General Solveig.

****

That evening, General Solveig called all the Valkyrie and the trainees into the great hall of the palace. General Hymir called in all the warriors of the army. It was the only place big enough to hold them all at the same time that was also warded against spies and listening spells.

“You will have noticed your training regimes have changed,” General Hymir said. “You will have noticed that the trainees are being accelerated ahead of schedule. Now you will know why. We have information that indicates, that in three years’ time when the Convergence is at its height, Asgard shall come under attack. I will not tell you by whom at this stage. I do not want you to discuss it, even amongst yourselves. The enemy doesn’t know we know of his plans, and never before have we had such an opportunity to prepare our defence. I expect you to continue training, work hard, do as you are instructed, and when the time grows closer we shall tell you who you will be fighting. Until then I want every man and woman in this room to swear, on your honour and the lives of your family, that you will not breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Odin suddenly walked out from behind the throne, he didn’t say anything, but then he didn’t have to. Power radiated off him as he surveyed the crowd. 

As one they swore to secrecy, and were released back out to train. Odin watched them go, before following calmly to where Daianya was about to mount up on a Pegasus.

“Did you sense deceit when they swore their oath?” He asked her quietly.

“In four of them,” Daianya said.

“Not bad for forty five thousand people,” Odin said. “Who are they?”

Daianya told him two names, and descriptions of the two she didn’t know.

“I will take care of it,” Odin said. “Thank you.”

He left her to her training.

That night three members of the army and one Valkyrie went missing. No one was taking any chances. This was war.

****

**Summer: Two years and six months until the Convergence**

Malekith entered the laboratory with a stern look on his face. He needed his scientists, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see them in person. They dealt with things he didn’t understand and that made him nervous and uncertain of himself. He hated feeling uncertain.

“Show me,” he said.

They led him to a viewing room over a testing chamber designed like a fighting ring. Within the chamber, an Elf lay prone on the ground. It looked sickly and near death.

“We have refined the Kursed Stones to be even stronger and last even longer,” the scientist said, “as we will now demonstrate.”

A door opened at the far end and thirty warriors, bodyguards and other fighters captured from the elven raids on shipping were ushered into the room. They were all armed and looked around themselves suspiciously. 

The Elf watched them from where he lay, then he held up his hand and crushed the Kursed Stone which lay within it.

The warriors began to grow alarmed as the stones took effect. The sickly Elf began to shudder, his body spasming as it began to grow larger and merge with his clothing and armour. He stood up slowly, now towering over the captured warriors who raised their weapons defensively.

The Kursed Elf ran towards the group of warriors, who began to yell in defiance and swing at the oncoming attack.

The Kursed ripped them apart. Malekith watched with growing satisfaction as limbs were torn from their sockets and weapons bounced uselessly off the Kursed’s body.

“Does it work better on the healthy?” Algrim asked by his side.

“It does, Sir, on a healthy Elf it can last up to seven days, with these sickly ones they will last between two or three,” said the scientist. “They know they will die, but they are dying anyway, so they volunteered.”

Malekith nodded, he’d seen enough. “Make as many of the stones as you can,” he said. “I want as many soldiers as possible to carry one. No more research, this is as good as I want them and I don’t want you to waste any more resources.”

The scientist bowed to him as he strode out. 

“Most of our soldiers are still in training,” Algrim said.

“With the power of the Kursed Stone within them, they don’t need much training,” Malekith said. “I don’t want the nature of the stones to be known. If they know it will kill them some will refuse to use them.”

Algrim nodded. “We have the scientists under heavy guard, the word will not get out.”

Malekith stopped walking as a thought occurred. “Algrim, in every society there are fanatics, people who will worship those in charge even to the point of dying for them. I want you to find as many of those people as you can. Search among the starving for those still praising my name. If word of the effects of the Kursed Stones leaks then I want at least one unit of soldiers who will not care. Make them up of the fanatics first, and then when the time grows nearer search among the sick.”

“As you wish, my King,” Algrim said, bowing.

****

**Autumn: Two years and three months until the Convergence**

A second book from Malekith arrived for Anima at the beginning of the month. She signed her name to a letter of thanks drafted by Odin and dove into the new volume with enthusiasm. 

As suspected, there was nothing helpful in the texts in regards to weaknesses or things that could be exploited, but Anima didn’t care. The chances had always been unlikely, and so she was free to study the history without pressure from King Bor.

She was reading in the rose garden when a shadow fell across her book. 

“Hello Puppy,” Loki said. “May I join you?”

Anima nodded, setting the book aside as he sprawled on the grass next to her.

“I was thinking about taking a short trip to the mountains by the Blue Coast,” Loki said. “Would you be interested in joining me? It’s close to that ancient village you wanted to study.”

“Is now really the time?” Anima asked him. 

“I don’t see why not. Malekith just sent you that the other day, yes? He must be settling into this betrothal thing for the time being.”

Loki avoided using any terms like ‘war’, ‘attack’ or anything that would give away that he thought Malekith wasn’t actually planning to marry her. In public, all those who knew of the war were careful not to talk directly about it.

“Maybe you can find him something nice as a gift while you’re there. The Blue Coast has a lot of shells and thigns of that nature, and I don’t believe Svartalfheim even has an ocean,” Loki continued.

“If my Father gives permission, I would love to come,” Anima said.

If Odin gave permission, then either he felt Anima could afford to relax or there was something else he wanted her to do while she was there. She didn’t doubt for a second that Loki had another agenda.

“As a matter of fact I already asked him,” Loki said cheerfully. “He said to take you along.”

Take her, not ask her. There _was_ something else going on.

“Then I’d love to go. When shall we leave?” Anima asked.

“Tomorrow too soon for you?” Loki asked.

“Not at all.”

“Then tomorrow it is.”

****

Daianya stood before the three men and one woman who thought to betray Asgard’s secret. They had been locked away in the dungeons for months as their lives had been investigated, awaiting interrogation. Now that it was finally here, she had been asked to act as a lie detector.

The first man had turned up a number of large debts. He admitted, once presented with evidence, that he had thought of selling the information to an informant in order to help clear his debts. He swore that he wouldn’t have really gone through with it, as he loved Asgard and was loyal to its king, he had only had a brief moment of selfishness.

Daianya saw that he was telling the truth and he was released. Odin cleared his debts and made him swear not to tell anyone what had happened to him if he returned to the army. He swore, truthfully, and kissed Odin’s hand a dozen times for helping him and giving him a second chance.

The second man and the woman were lovers, and spies. They were dragged from their cells and brought before King Bor, who sat on the only chair in the dim, secretive room in which the interrogation and trial would take palce.

“Who do you report to?” he asked. “We know you have someone who takes your information, who is it?”

They remained silent.

“If you talk, you will be granted mercy,” Bor said.

Silence.

“Do you take money from Malekith or from someone else?” Odin asked. “One is a lesser charge I promise you.”

Nothing. The man and woman stared stubbornly at the floor.

“Very well. Our investigations will continue without you,” Bor said. “I sentence you to – ”

“Wait,” Daianya said.

“Why?” Hela asked from the corner where she had been lounging. She had straightened up when Bor began to sentence them.

“Just give me a moment,” Daianya said, walking in front of them and kneeling down to their level. “Tell me who you give the information to?” she asked, calling on Yggdrasil and watching their souls closely. The woman’s soul was steady and calm, the man’s was rippling. Daianya turned to look directly at him. “Tell me,” she said again.

He began to squirm. Bor sat forward in his chair, watching with interest.

“Tell me, or not only will you die I will send your soul to be eaten by Níðhöggr,” Daianya lied. She had no idea how to do that, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that the man in front of her believed she could.

“His name is Tophir,” the man said, cracking under her orange-eyed stare. “He lives on Vanir Street, number eighteen. Please don’t hurt me.”

Daianya rose and went back to her place by the wall.

“I sentence you to die,” Bor said. “Hela, make it quick.”

Hela grinned and gestured to the guards to take them outside. As they turned away she summoned an axe to her hand, already anticipating the kill.

Daianya tried not to shudder at the sight of the axe. Hela made her skin crawl more and more with each passing year.

“Bring in the last one,” Bor commanded.

He was brought in, and fell to his knees instantly, struggling not to cry.

“I swear I’ve done nothing!” he cried.

“He believes it,” Daianya said instantly.

“Then why did my granddaughter detect deception from you when you swore not to tell anyone that we are at war?” Bor asked him.

The man froze on the ground. “I… I wasn’t going to tell anyone important,” he muttered.

“Who were you going to tell?” Odin asked him.

“Um… well… my wife,” the man said.

“Your wife,” Bor said in disbelief.

“Well… you see… when we got married, she made me swear that I’d always tell her everything,” the man said, looking up at them pleadingly. “So every day when I go home she asks me what happened and I tell her. She gets really upset when I don’t. She’d know we were all spoken to in the palace, that can’t be kept secret, so she’d want to ask me why and… well… I knew I should tell her, but I did swear to her that I would. I was so glad when you took me before I could make it home.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Daianya said, staring at him. “He’s actually telling the truth.”

“Your wife, lovely woman as I’m sure she is, does not have the right level of security clearance to know anything,” Odin said. “That is true regardless of what oath you swore to her.”

“An oath of honour is an important thing,” Bor said. “Although I think you made a foolish one on your wedding night. I hope the rest of your marriage brings you peace and not stress?”

The man nodded. “She’s amazing, she truly is. She just doesn’t like being left out of things.”

“If we send you home, will you tell her what happened to you?” Odin asked him.

The man looked uncomfortable and said nothing.

“Would you like to stay in the cells?” Odin asked him.

“Could I? Just until it’s not a secret anymore?” the man asked.

Bor sighed heavily. “That’s wasn’t supposed to be a genuine offer,” he said to the man. “I will have your wife brought here and order her to release you from your vow. Will that make you able to keep this to yourself? We need all the loyal soldiers we can get, I don’t _want_ to lose you.”

“If she releases me, I swear I’ll tell her nothing,” the man said.

As one, Bor and Odin turned and looked at Daianya, who sighed. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Have this man’s wife brought to the palace,’ Bor said wearily. “As soon as possible please, I don’t want to drag this out any more than it has been.”

****

Anima and Loki arrived at the Blue Coast after two days of travel on a flyer. They met with Prince Vili who welcomed them warmly. Anima saw a note pass from Loki to Vili lightning fast as they clasp wrists in greeting.

The following day, Loki escorted Anima to the ancient village, where she immediately began looking for the wall carvings that she’d read about.

Loki stayed nearby, occasionally wandering off only to return quickly. He seemed to be studying the carvings as intently as she was.

“See anything interesting?” Anima asked him.

He turned and gave her a grin. “Come and look at this,” he said.

It was a carving of two men and lady engaging in a sexual act.

“Charming,” Anima said, turning away again. 

“Look closer,” Loki said.

“I don’t want to.”

“I’m asking you to,” he said, his voice taking on a slight edge.

Anima looked again, still seeing the same image, then she checked with her magic.

There was a doorway in the carving. She glanced up at Loki, who was watching her closely.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” he asked in a casual tone. “I wonder why they put such a vulgar display so proudly on one of their walls? All I can think is that the Asgardian ancestors were far less prudish than they are today.”

He circled around behind the wall and Anima felt a surge in his magic. The doorway collapsed, and there was the faint sound of screaming abruptly cut off.

“Your Uncle wrote to your Father about these carvings, apparently they are rumoured to be haunted, with all kinds of strange goings on at night,” Loki continued. “Being so ancient and occupied by so many power Asgardians before the village was abandoned, they almost call to people, don’t you think?”

“I see what you mean,” Anima said. “I wonder if the call can still be heard?”

They explored the ruins thoroughly, finding and closing several more doors before Loki was satisfied.

“I think that’s the last of them,” he said quietly, just in case he was wrong.

“Spies?” Anima breathed.

“This far out is less likely to be watched,” Loki said. “And yet the traders in the main marketplace come out to the distant ones as well. Vili said he’d seen more sightseers up here in the last few months than at any time in the last three hundred years. He got suspicious.”

“Now that the doorways are gone, can they be recast?” Anima asked.

“They can always be recast,” Loki said. “But they are not likely to do so now that they know we are on to them.”

“Won’t this tip off…” Anima started to ask but stopped before she said his name, just in case.

“No. Spies pathways are found all the time. They’ll set up a new one, we’ll start looking for it. What we did today is not suspicious,” Loki said. “And now, Puppy, we can begin our relaxation. Did you want help to take some rubbings of the carving? I’m the God of Rubbing… things, but I can do walls as well.”

“Charming,” Anima said dryly.

****

**Winter: Two years until the Convergence**

Bor crashed through the door of his office, making the wood slam against the wall and bounce back again hard, narrowly missing hitting him on the face.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he shouted at Loki, who was seated in one of the chairs and idly examining the empty Reality Stone box.

“You know, you could use this as a pen-holder, it’s about the right size,” he said calmly.

“Bow to your King,” Bor ordered.

Loki just looked at him from where he sat. “Odin’s not here,” he said.

Bor growled and snatched the box from him, setting it down on the table with a thunk. “You publically declared yourself the head of the Convergence Celebration Committee,” he shouted. “We don’t have a Convergence Celebration Committee!”

“You should do, seeing as the whole population of Asgard is likely to want to watch it. All the other realms are holding festivals and celebrations, it’s high time Asgard _got into the spirit_ ” Loki said.

Bor paused. “You should have said something to me,” he said after a beat.

“I tried; legitimately this time. I sent you a letter and asked for an appointment and everything, but you kept denying me, and time is running out. It would look odd, _very_ odd, if Asgard was the only realm that wasn’t holding some kind of celebration. Even Malekith has gotten in on the act, apparently he has ordered a feast – made with stolen food from cargo ships too stupid to go around his system – but still, orders have been given, according to the latest spy reports. I thought you might need someone to head up the Committee that you have _totally_ put together to organise the celebrations,” Loki said. “And so I nominated myself.”

Bor growled low, annoyed at having missed such an obvious issue. “Fine,” he said. “You can have a mid-sized budget, and try to use the celebration decorations to conceal the new turrets we’re about to begin installing.”

“It’s a good reason to explain all the changes that are about to start,” Loki said. “Glad you could see reason.”

“Get out, or I’ll put you in the bloody box,” Bor growled.

“It’s bloody? What did you do to it?” Loki asked, already rising and skipping away.

“I shoved an annoying trickster into it until I squashed him down small enough,” Bor yelled at his retreating back.


	66. Preparations Over Time Part II

**Spring: One year and nine months until the Convergence**

Anima gathered up the rune stones on her desk and began filling velvet bags with them. “Another volume of Svartalfheim’s history arrived today,” she said. “That makes five so far.”

 ** _“Are the stories any good?”_** Senan asked via her pendant.

“It’s fascinating actually,” Anima said. “They have quite a rich history, although it’s full of violence.”

 ** _“They don’t sound like the kind of place that would be good for you,”_** Senan said.

“There’s no sunlight there, their light comes from a black hole, which is really odd because black holes normally suck all the light into them, but the elements in that realm are not like ours. Svartalfheim came into existence via a completely different method, it’s half real and half mystical.”

 ** _“And you’re sure you’ll never be his wife?”_** Senan asked.

“I’m sure, Malekith has no intention of marrying me. It’s all a ruse, on both sides,” Anima said. “It will all come out during the Convergence. Until then we are dancing around one another, trying to keep our agenda’s secret.”

 ** _“You’ve told me,”_** Senan pointed out.

“I hate to say it,” Anima said gently, “But no one is going to come to Midgard and interrogate you on what Asgard’s plans are. Malekith doesn’t even know you are alive. No one cares about Midgard anymore.”

 ** _“That sounds like it’s for the best, from what I’ve seen we’re not exactly a powerful force in the wider worlds,”_** Senan said. **_“I can’t see me with my bronze sword getting into a fair fight with one of those elves, they’d flatten me.”_**

“We used to be powerful,” Anima said softly. “We used to be a force on Yggdrasil, our mages were so strong, and so clever. Ten generations might live and die for a single Asgardian lifetime but they respected each and every one of us…once.” 

**_“That time is past, Ani darlin’,”_** Senan said.

“I know, but it makes me sad,” Anima said. “Midgard may never again stand up and be something powerful. We’re so very small. We used to be…”

**_“Used to be what?”_ **

“We used to be heroes.”

****

Malekith was at the ship building site inspecting the smaller ships, named Harrows, which would be used to land his troops across Asgard in the attack. The larger ships, Arcs, were almost completed and most of them had been launched, but without the Harrows the Arcs were useless.

“My King,” Algrim greeted, bowing. “I come with a report on the situation in the cities.”

“Food again?” Malekith said, annoyed. He was beginning to regret not listening to the High Lords, at least a little bit. The lack of food among the non-military elves was causing unrest, although it had also caused an increase in volunteers to the army, which he had been hoping for.

“There are areas where things are getting desperate, riots are being threatened,” Algrim said.

“Send out some of our ready Arcs to raid ships along the new trader path, the one that goes far around us. It will give them some training in space battles and they can bring home food for the people,” Malekith said. “Make sure it goes to the army first, then the excess can be given to the populous.”

“As you command, my King,” Algrim said. “There is one other matter I wish to raise.”

Malekith nodded.

“The preparations for the mortal have not yet begun.”

Malekith turned and gave him a blank look.

“You asked for time to complete the works, if you are not seen to begin them, those watching for Asgard will grow suspicious,” Algrim said. “I thought perhaps you could engage a builder to provide you with plans, as a way to divert suspicions.”

Malekith turned back to look at the Harrow again. “See to it,” he said, and paused for thought. “Once the plans are drafted, have them sent to Asgard for her approval. That will make it seem like I am both serious and respectful.”

Algrim bowed deeply and left to carry out his orders.

****

**Summer: One year and six months until the Convergence**

Nal looked out over the fields of healing herbs and smiled in satisfaction. She had had to sacrifice some of her trees in order to create the best environment for them to grow – most herbs needed plenty of sunlight – but she felt that it was worth it.

“It looks like a sea of green,” Bestla commented from beside her. Nal had invited her grandmother to come along with her for the day. She wasn’t sure if Bestla would accept, the summer sun was hot and the air was still, making it hard to stay cool, but Bestla had thanked her graciously for the invite and had brought an umbrella and a fan with her.

Nal’s smile widened until it was almost a grin. “There are forty fields of different herbs here. We’ll be harvesting them soon and drying them all summer. I’ve already told the army healers and they have set aside space in their store rooms for it all. Anima says that a lot of them will be used to make poultices and other creams and things which can go under bandages and help with healing from energy burns.”

“Are energy burns likely?” Bestla asked.

Nal nodded. “Unfortunately, energy weapons are very popular.”

Despite being alone in the field she was still careful with her words. Anima and Loki’s excursion to the Blue Coast had made everyone more careful in what they said and where they said it. Loki had gone on several missions of a similar nature since then, sometimes taking Anima, sometimes not. According to Odin, Loki’s task was to shut down any portal that opened up that wasn’t in the mountain pass or on the Lone Rock. The idea was to trick the Dark Elves into thinking those had not been discovered and thus be able to track their spies more effectively.

Nal took in a deep breath of summer air. The scent of the herbs was wonderful.

“Let’s go and have something cool to drink,” she said.

“How are your fighting lessons going, my dear?” Bestla asked her as they walked slowly to where a table setting had been placed underneath a shade cloth.

“Master Evanen had to return to Vanaheim a year ago, but I still practice every day, and Daianya trains with me occasionally. She knocks me on my bottom every time but I’m getting faster at spotting when she’s about to. One day soon I hope to actually stop her,” Nal said.

“And your ice-shaping?” Bestla asked.

Nal looked away.

“My dear, please consider practicing. Do you know what ice-shaping is good for? Blocking energy weapons. A good ice wall will take a dozen blasts easily.”

“I’m…” Nal said and stopped herself. She was going to say that she wasn’t even going to be a part of the fighting but that was too much information to say without knowing who was listening. “I don’t want to know,” she said. “Ice shaping is not something I have any interest in. Everyone here thinks it’s creepy the way it just forms from nothing anyway.”

“It forms from magic, Jotun magic, a very special kind,” Bestla said.

“Which is seen as creepy,” Nal said. “Please, Grandmother, I know you want me to embrace my Jotun heritage, but I love the summer. I love the hot air and the scent of flowers. I’m Jotun, but I’m not _Jotun_.”

Bestla looked at her sadly. “A Jotun in the summer is still a child of ice,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you need to surround yourself with it, just learn to love it for its own sake.”

Nal shook her head. “I feel the cold calling to me,” she said. “All the time, in the back of my head I feel it. It will always be a part of me, but I don’t want to embrace it. I’m afraid…”

“Afraid of the cold?” Bestla asked.

Nal looked up at her, her face serious, red eyes on red.

“I’m afraid if I embrace it I’ll never stop,” she said softly.

****

“You need to train more,” Loki said, from his perch on the wall.

Hela looked up and summoned a knife.

“Now, now, don’t be mad. It’s a known fact that you get hit in battle far more than is reasonable. It slows you down and that’s not a good thing. You ought to practice your skills, not your kills.”

Hela’s eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight as she took aim.

“If you agree to let me train you, you will have the perfect excuse for my death if it all goes wrong,” Loki said, inspecting his fingernails.

Hela slowly shifted her weight back to neutral. “You are a fool,” she said. “Do you think I would spare you?”

“Of course not, but you’d have to hit me and I’m confident that you won’t, because I am awesome.” Loki said.

“Where and when?” Hela asked.

“Training yards, after the nightly feast, when we’re both feeling sleepy and a little bit drunk,” Loki said.

“If you are not going to be serious I will hit you right now,” Hela said.

“I am serious, mostly, sometimes, okay almost never, but I will train with you after lunch three times a week if you agree to it,” Loki said.

Hela looked down at the knife in her hand and then back up at the wall, where Loki lounged, waiting.

“I accept,” she said. “And when I kill you, I shall stand over your dying body and as you die you can watch my smile.”

Loki grinned. “Excellent.”

****

**Autumn: One year and three months until the Convergence**

Anima received the seventh and last book from Malekith a few days into the season, along with a gold chain made of intersecting links.

“We’ve checked it for spells and curses but just like the books it appears to have none,” Odin said. “If you agree after your own tests, we would like you to wear it tonight. We’ve identified a spy of Malekith’s who will be at the feast, I want him to report back that you – the all of us – are still treating this as legitimate.”

“It’s so ugly,” Anima said, holding it up.

“Dark Elves have different tastes in what they consider attractive,” Odin said. “It won’t be much, and it won’t be for long. Once a week until the Convergence?”

Anima sighed heavily. “I suppose I can do that,” she said. 

“You have also been sent the plans for the renovations of his palace,” Odin said. “He is asking for your approval before he begins construction.”

Anima took the plans and reviewed them with interest. “He’s putting in a lighting system,” she said, “And an indoor garden.”

“Someone must have told him that mortals like plants,” Odin said.

“Maybe he remembered the flower illusion I made when I was there,” Anima said. “Shall I make any suggestions or just say that I approve as it is?”

“I’d recommend making one or two very minor suggestions, blanket approval might be seen as suspicious or too dismissive,” Odin said.

“This lying is hard work,” Anima said. “Having to second guess everything I say or do, having to remember what I’m ‘meant’ to be doing and plans I’m ‘meant’ to be making.”

“What would you suggest if it were real?” Odin asked her.

Anima looked at the plans again. “Nothing in regards to the layout, it looks good. Maybe I can ask if I might have a say in the colour scheme?”

Odin nodded. “I’ll include the request in the letter I write,” he said.

That night Anima wore the golden chain to dinner over a dark blue dress, in order to make it stand out as much as possible. Everyone privately agreed it was horrible, even Hela, but publically they staged a conversation about how nice it was and how generous Malekith was being.

****

“She liked the gold you sent her,” Algrim said.

“Of course she did, mortals and Asgardians both like shiny things,” Malekith replied. “I’ll send her another one in a little while.”

“She has sent you a letter in regards to the plans you sent her,” Algrim said. “She approves of them, but asks if she might have a say when it comes time to paint the walls.”

Malekith waved a hand dismissively. “She can tell me exactly what she wants. If she survives the attack I’ll have her cell painted with it.”

“No one will survive the Aether,” Algrim said.

Malekith looked across at him. Algrim’s voice always took on a strange kind of dullness when he spoke of the Aether.

“It changes reality,” Malekith said. “At least, that’s what the scientists say. I should be able to use it to do whatever I wish.”

“Destruction is your wish,” Algrim said.

“Destruction of the people, destruction of the defences, yes,” Malekith said.

“The Aether is stronger than that,” Algrim said. “It will not be held back. Once you begin, destruction will continue until there is nothing left.”

Malekith considered his words carefully. “I promised my soldiers that they would have whatever they could take from the rubble,” he said.

“They will have ash,” Algrim said.

Malekith began to smile. “So be it,” he said.

****

**Winter: One year until the Convergence**

Odin and Loki were walking along the top of the thick wall which used to encircle the city, before the city outgrew it several generations back. All along the wall there were defensive towers with large energy weapons mounted on swivelling supports.

“So the fireworks will go here,” Odin said, stopping halfway between two towers.

“Yes, we’ve already started construction on the towers which will house them,” Loki said. “I ordered them to be built of stone and metal. If anything happens to set off the fireworks early then strong structures like that will ensure the wall is not damaged. And as you can see just along a little further, we are already mounting the firing mechanism to launch them into the air. I had them designed to look like the defensive turrets so that they will blend in. After the Convergence the city guards can use them as rest stops and rain shelters.”

All of this was said in a clear, carrying tone. Odin nodded in agreement. “That was a good idea,” he said. “We should use this opportunity to make improvements to the city like this. What’s the range of the fireworks?”

“From here? They’ll launch up well into the atmosphere,” Loki said. “About 700 metres with accuracy,” he said in a much quieter tone. “The sky will look amazing when the time comes. Of course the major attraction will be the Convergence itself. We’re putting in large viewing orbs which can zoom in on the portals as they open. We’ll be able to see the Jotnir looking up at us as if they were standing next to us.”

“Excellent,” Odin said. “The population will find that very amusing, I’m sure.”

****

Anima was in the armoury with her sisters when Hela walked in.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“What are you? You make your own weapons,” Nal replied.

Hela rolled her eyes. “I’m here to examine a halberd. I can make anything but it’s easier to do if I see something up close.”

“I’m here to choose a present for Malekith,” Anima said. “It’s about time I sent him something, and I thought he’d like a weapon, seeing as he’s a soldier at heart.

“We want something good, but not…” Daianya said, trailing off.

Hela understood though. They didn’t want to send him anything too fancy or expensive, and certainly not anything rare or useful.

“Here,” she said, producing a slightly curved sword with a jet-black blade. “I saw this hanging off a man’s belt out on one of the trading stations. Malekith like dark things, all Dark Elves do. He’ll like this.”

Anima took the sword from Hela with a surprised expression. “Thank you,” she said.

“Yes, that was nice of you,” Daianya added.

“Don’t look so astonished,” Hela snapped. “Of course I want to help my betrothed sister with her future husband.”

Anima shrugged. “You can speak freely, I’ve put a privacy spell on the crystal in my pocket, we got sick of constantly second-guessing our words all the time.”

“Father had a look and approved it,” Nal added. “It goes hot and lights up when someone is listening who shouldn’t be.”

“Plus Daianya can spot people using invisibility spells because they can’t hide their souls,” Anima added.

Hela shrugged. “We all have to play our part. If Malekith gets spooked early the battle may not take place. Until he actually launches an offensive against us he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Well I appreciate you doing so,” Anima said looking the sword over. “This is beautiful, Hela, I’m surprised you don’t make blades for people more often.”

“They don’t last,” Hela confessed. “A few years are all they’re good for and then they lose their edge and rust away rapidly. But that one will last until after the Convergence, so it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s perfect,” Nal said.

Hela smiled slightly, before taking on her usual sneer. “I have to go, I have training,” she said.

“You’re in training?” Daianya asked.

Hela immediately scowled. “Don’t look so surprised. Loki is teaching me to improve my skills for the battle. He made a good point that being stabbed slows me down. I want to be right in the centre of the fighting. I want to kill.”

Her last words were said in almost a hungry tone. The three sisters all subtly leaned back away from her.

“You’ll get your chance,” Daianya said. “Malekith has a hundred thousand soldiers under arms, maybe more if he’s still recruiting. Believe me, Hela, a lot of people are going to die.”

Hela grinned at them.

“Good.”

****

**Spring: Nine months until the Convergence**

Hela spun around and threw her knife at Loki, who dodged it easily. She snarled in annoyance and threw three more in rapid succession, each one large than the last. Loki caught the final knife by the hilt as it went to sail past him. He brought it around and used it to block Hela’s downward swing.

“When you throw you weapons away you create opportunities for other people,” he said, parrying each swing with apparent ease. “They can be allies or opponents, and you need to decide how the fight will be affected by the addition of extra weapons part way through.”

Hela kept swinging, but every time Loki was able to dodge, duck or parry.

“Hold still so I can kill you,” Hela muttered.

“No opponent worth anything would ever do that,” Loki said, although he abruptly came to a standstill a second later, causing Hela to overcompensate and stumble over where he should have been. “You need to watch me, Hela, not my gorgeous face where the cheeky words come from, but my torso, my chest and my hips. My chest will tell you where I plan to swing before I do so, my hips will tell you where my next step will be. Use this information to anticipate and account for my movements and you may well get in under my guard.”

“You talk too much,” Hela snapped.

“Hela, Loki, are you two _training_?” Odin asked, stepping out from the shadows. “I was on my way to the training yards to go through a few fighting exercises and I heard you talking,” he said.

“We are indeed training and very hard too,” Loki said, not even the slightest bit breathless. Hela was panting with effort.

Odin looked from one to the other. “Perhaps I should join you?” he offered.

“How delightful, Hela, would you like to fight your father or have a rest?” Loki asked.

Hela walked over to the side of the ring and sat down. Odin drew his sword as Loki grinned and held his up defensively. “Watch closely, Hela darling, your Father is an expert at single combat,” Loki said.

“And your Uncle is an expert at slipping out of difficult situations,” Odin replied, already sizing Loki up.

“God of it, actually,” Loki said, eyes dancing.

Odin darted forwards, and Loki moved his sword. The two blades only lightly tapped before Odin pulled back. He did it again a second later with the same result. Hela watched from the sidelines, and saw the moment when things changed. Loki’s rear foot shifted just slightly to take more weight, and Odin’s chest shifted to his right.

This time their swords met in a flurry of slashes, glancing off one another with a ring of metal on metal as Odin pushed Loki back across the ring. Loki kept moving backwards, eyes on Odin’s upper body, before he suddenly darted forwards and rolled, slipping under Odin’s guard and bringing his sword up. Hela leaned forwards in anticipation but Odin turned with Loki’s movement almost as though the two were dancing, and blocked the slice easily. Loki came up on the other side of Odin with his sword already up and waiting as Odin began attacking again. They shifted back and forth across the ring, slowly wearing one another down as they traded slashes and jabs. Loki got a lucky cut beneath Odin’s left arm, but the sword caught the material of his shirt instead of his flesh. Odin cut the strap of Loki’s belt and his scabbard fell off, creating a tripping hazard that both men continued to fight around.

The longer the fight went on the more the two men began to tire and the more mistakes they started to make. Hela watched with interest as Loki missed an opening that he would have gone for fifteen minutes earlier. Odin’s footwork became heavier and less agile. After just over an hour of sparring without a break, Odin suddenly came on with a burst of strength. Hela watched with wide eyes as he forced Loki back and back again, until finally he knocked the sword out of Loki’s hand. Loki grinned at him as Odin held his sword up to Loki’s neck… and then vanished.

Odin whirled in place just in time to catch Loki’s knife blade as it almost reached his neck. He knocked it away, kicked Loki’s legs out from under him, and then sat on him.

“Okay, yield now and I’ll accept it,” Loki said from underneath him.

Odin chuckled and rose, offering a hand to Loki as Hela walked up.

“That took too long,” she complained.

“Loki is very skilled,” Odin said. “And real battles can go on for a long time, you’ve fought in them before, Hela, you know this.”

“The battles I was a part of never seemed to last too long,” Hela said smugly. 

“You always got pinned down eventually and had to be extracted before you could go back to the fighting,” Loki said. “I remember freeing you myself once.”

“Why weren’t you at the front of the battle?” Hela said. 

“I got hit in the head and had to wait until I woke up,” Loki said. “And then I heard your outraged screams and went to investigate.”

“I remember that one,” Odin said. “I thought you were done for when that Titan slammed his hammer down on your head. I swear I thought your whole body crumpled into half its height with that blow.”

“Nah, I ducked down on my knees and rolled to the side but the Titan was too fast caught me with the edge of his hammer,” Loki said. 

“I’d like to see what you have learnt, Hela, if you are not done training,” Odin said.

Hela looked at Loki, who finally appeared to be tired. “I’d love to, Father.”

Loki won, easily.

****

Bor read the letter again and sighed heavily. He had known that this was coming, although he had been hoping that somehow Grundroth would forget about his invitation so Bor wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Nal, along with her escort, was formally invited to visit Jotunheim during the Convergence. Because Nal was a princess and this was all for the purposes of possible betrothal, it was expected that Bor or some other suitably high ranking member of the royal family would go with her, and that was just not going to happen.

He briefly considered refusing the invitation, but there was no good reason for it, and if word got around that Bor didn’t want any of his family to leave Asgard during the Convergence then there was a chance, however slim, that Malekith might become suspicious.

Instead he picked up his pen and drafted a reply, crossing out multiple attempts before throwing the pen down and ringing for his secretary. 

“Find my son,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later, Odin entered the office.

“Help me with this,” Bor said. “I can’t find the right words to tell him to sod off.”

Odin read over the invitation. “Well, when you made the original agreement it probably seemed like a good idea,” he said. “Why don’t you visit him early?”

“He’ll want to know why, _Malekith_ will want to know why,” Bor grumbled.

“Not Nal, you. Tell him that you wish to discuss her visit in detail. He’ll accommodate you, you know he will,” Odin said. “Go a month before the Convergence and talk to him, perhaps you can convince him to alter his invitation. You are more likely to keep things quiet if you speak to him in person than via a number of letters.”

Bor shook his head. “I can’t leave Asgard, what if Malekith attacks early?” he asked.

“Malekith is less and less likely to do so with each passing month,” Odin said. “He is relying on the element of surprise to help him with his attack. He wants the Convergence portal to reach us suddenly, in fact, if you left Asgard even a month before the Convergence then he will be certain that we suspect nothing.”

“A month!” Bor exclaimed. 

“Malekith is likely to start getting nervous as the Convergence approaches, all our hard work and secrecy will mean little if he gets jumpy at the last minute. A month is far enough out that he won’t be fully ready to assemble his troops the second you are gone so he is more likely than ever to remain with his existing plans, while it will also help to lull him into believing that you truly don’t suspect a thing,” Odin said. “Or I can go in your place, if you do not wish to risk it.”

“No, I would normally go, so I should do so now,” Bor said. “With the Bifrost as well I can be back very quickly if Malekith suddenly changes his mind.”

He reached for his pen again. “I’ll tell him I want to discuss our trade deal away from other matters, he’ll receive me, that deal has made him a wealthy king.”

****

**Summer: Six months until the Convergence**

“Rune Stones, particularly these ones here as so helpfully supplied by Princess Anima, are for emergency healing,” Solveig said, holding them up in front of the trainees. “Every Valkyrie will carry a small bag of them. Our jobs in battle are diverse. We fight from the air, we fight on the ground, we collected the wounded and treat their worst injuries, and of course we collect the dead. We are more than warriors, and so today you are going to learn each and every one of these stones and what they can do. Do not make mistakes with them. You don’t want to give a bone-sealer to someone with a belly wound; that wastes time and stones.”

She drew the first rune on the board in front of them. “Blood-slow rune,” she said. “Looks like a wave that’s run into a wall. To activate it you place it over the wound – _not_ in it – and say the command word ‘dvelja’.”

The trainees dutifully repeated the word.

“Bone-sealer rune. Causes bad breaks to reach out for one another and helps hold limbs together until a healer can take over and reset everything properly. Don’t worry if the limb is bent out of shape, the healers can fix that, your job is to stop the broken bones from splintering into the flesh and making things worse.”

The rune inscription looked like two sets of tendrils reaching for one another.

“Press _lightly_ onto the limb and say the command word ‘gróa’.” 

“Gróa,” said the group.

Daianya already knew every rune they were being shown. Her healing training from years ago had covered them, and Anima’s constant creation over the last few years had caused them to sink permanently in her mind.

“This one heals the damage done by energy weapons,” Solveig said, drawing the rune on the board. “’Svalr’ is the command word. It stops the burning and sooths the wound until better treatment can be applied.”

****

“I wonder when we’ll be told who we’re fighting?” Tarah said to the group once they were finished with their lesson, but before they left the classroom spelled for privacy. “I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“It might be the Kronans?” Tiree said. “We clash with them a lot.”

“They’ve never done anything more than some raids before, a full scale war would be unlikely,” Tarah said.

“I think it’s the Dark Elves,” Norah said.

Daianya looked down quickly, only to find that Tarah was watching her when she looked back up.

“Why would it be the Dark Elves? Princess Anima is betrothed to their king,” Tiree said.

“Energy weapons are primarily used by the Dark Elves,” Norah said. “Plus all of our Pegasus training is about dodging ranged weapons, not fighting off personal attacks. The Dark Elf fighting style leans heavily towards ranged weapons of all kinds.”

They all stared at her.

“What? I pay attention in my classes, I only _look_ like I’m daydreaming,” Norah said.

“We need to go and eat before we begin the afternoon training,” Meydee said. “We must stop this speculating.”

Tarah hung back as the other girls left. Daianya knew why.

“It is them, isn’t it?” Tarah said the second they were alone.

“I can’t say,” Daianya said. “You know that.”

“You can’t say, but I have working eyes and you are not a good liar when someone takes you by surprise,” Tarah said with a smile. “What about your sister?”

Daianya shrugged. “My sister is betrothed to Malekith, officially so. The scroll is filed in the archives and everyone is waiting to set the date.”

“Why are they waiting”? Tarah asked, walking past Daianya to get to the door. “No, don’t tell me, you can’t anyway. But I promise you my lips are sealed.”

****

Odin looked at the mountains of dried herbs that filled the healer’s store room and turned to look at Nal.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I thought we had everything covered, but this is something we missed, and we shouldn’t have. You have done wonderfully.”

Nal gave him a small, pleased smile. “I wanted to help our realm,” she said. “I wanted to do something useful.”

“This is very useful,” said the head healer. “We’ve been making creams and poultices for weeks and we haven’t even made a dent in the supplies. Every warrior and Valkyrie will be able to carry some with them and we’ll have more than enough for anything left here in our hospitals.”

Odin reached out and laid a hand on Nal’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, my daughter,” he said. “And I’m doubly proud that you managed to keep it hidden from me for three years.”

“Grandmother knew,” Nal said.

Odin chuckled. “Of course she did.”

****

Anima delivered the last of the rune-stones to the barracks. General Solveig received her personally and took delivery of them.

“I used one on one of my Valkyrie who got hurt during training,” she said. “I’ve never seen one work so quickly and so well. She almost didn’t need a healer afterwards.”

“I refined them a little bit,” Anima admitted. “I found that if you carve a few extra runes around the outside in _really tiny_ writing then they amplify the affect and the speed. Is your Valkyrie alright?”

“She’s fine, and you could sell these across the nine realms, if you wanted to,” Solveig said. “Rune-stones that can be activated by anyone regardless of whether they have magic or not have always been valuable, but these are something else entirely.”

“I just want to help,” Anima said.

General Solveig turned and looked at her with an almost motherly expression. “Your sister has a warrior’s heart,” she said. “You, I think, have the heart of a caretaker.”

“Do you often judge people by their hearts?” Anima asked, partly amused and partly flattered.

General Solveig put the stone she was holding back with the others. “I learnt a long time ago to watch people’s hearts closely, your Grace. Who someone truly is can be well hidden sometimes, but never fully concealed.”

“What’s Hela’s heart like?” Anima asked cheekily.

General Solveig raised an eyebrow. “It’s about as useful as any dead heart, your Grace, and before you ask, I have not had enough dealings with your sister Nal to say for certain what I see in hers.”

“She says it’s made of ice,” Anima said. “But she’s a lot warmer than any ice I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you’re both right?” General Solveig suggested diplomatically. “Some people’s hearts are filled with conflict.”

Anima nodded. “Now that sounds like Nal.”

****

**Autumn: Three months until the Convergence**

King Grundroth of Jotunheim inspected the guest rooms of the palace carefully. Beside him, having worked his way up until he was in the King’s trusted circle, Laufey son of Morath, stood with a scroll and a pen in his hands.

“Widen the windows, but place thick glass on them. Asgard is warm, if she wants to heat the room we need to make sure the ice can take it,” Grundroth said. “And stone, if things go well and a contract is signed we will need to import stone so that she can always have warmth if she wants it.”

Laufey scribbled quickly.

“The bathroom, does it match the drawings of common designs from Asgard?”

“It does, your Majesty. In fact I took the liberty of checking whether the designs were of commoner level or royalty. They are suitably luxurious,” Laufey said.

“This pattern here is wonky,” King Grundroth said.

“I’ll have it fixed immediately,” Laufey said.

“No, I’ll do it, it’ll be faster,” King Grundroth placed his hand on the wall and concentrated. The pattern of rough intertwining ropes became clearer and sharper. It travelled around the room until the entire pattern was redone. The detail was so fine Laufey could make out the individual strands on each cord.

“What’s left? Food? We’ll have to serve ours, most Asgardian food can’t be made without ovens. I suppose we could cook over the Muspelheim fire Bor gave us, but the smelting plant is far away from the palace.” 

“Perhaps she will enjoy trying Jotun food?” Laufey suggested. “It will be novel, after all.”

“I hope so,” King Grundroth said. “I need to show her that we can care for her, provide for her, make her comfortable.”

“Surely it is King Bor you need to convince?” Laufey said.

“Him too, but I’ve been studying Bor and Odin as much as I can. Bor would hand her over and be pleased, but Odin, I believe, is quite attached to his daughters, if Nal does not want to come, or at least objects very strongly, then it will take a lot of effort to prevent Odin from objecting as well. Bor may not care what he does to his granddaughters – he’s sending the mortal to Malekith of all people – but he does care about the feelings of his son.”

“Perhaps you should invite Odin to visit us,” Laufey suggested. “If he is likely to bow to her will, then perhaps the relationship goes in the other direction. If you can convince him that we are the best choice for her, he may in turn try to convince her.”

“Perhaps, but I would rather convince her myself,” King Grundroth said. “I want a bride, a woman to be solely mine, but she is still a woman. I cannot and will not force her to take an oath binding herself to me. I can only convince her to do so.”

Laufey looked down at his scroll. “Next is the ice-garden, you wanted to check and see if the layout was finished so you could fill it with ice flowers.”

****

“We’re ready,” Odin said. “All the defences are up and active. Loki is just installing empty boxes labelled fireworks now. The palace wall has been finished – finally – and the army and Valkyrie are as ready as they’ll ever be. If Malekith attacked tomorrow, we’d destroy him.”

Bor nodded. “We’ve been lucky,” he said. “As far as my spies can determine everything on Svartalfheim is proceeding as before. Malekith has no idea what we have done.”

“I’ve conducted a survey and then sent out invitations,” Odin said. “All the citizens of the city are invited to watch the Convergence from the palace gardens, where there will be free food and drinks. Once the fighting starts they will be ushered into the palace and led down into the lower levels for safety. That way they will be behind our defences, the protective wall, and thirty feet of stones and packed earth.”

“How many will come do you think?” Bor asked.

“Most of them, I hope. The promise of free food will entice a lot more than otherwise, although there are always those who do not like crowds and will remain in the city to watch from their rooftops. We can’t do anything about that, but hopefully if any of Malekith’s forces do make it through the portal they will concentrate their attacks on the palace.”

“Hopefully,’ Bor said. “The next three months are going to be hard to wait through.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all didn't mind the short snippets over the three year period. While a lot of little things happened, there was nothing that justified stopping and spending a whole chapter on one event.


	67. The Aether Tamed

**One month before the Convergence**

Bor stood on the Bifrost and faced Odin with a serious look. 

“If you even get the slightest indication,” he said, “Even if you’re wrong.”

“I’ll send for you,” Odin promised. “Everything is in place. The last details are being taken care of even now. You will back tonight.”

Bor nodded. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, but then again, if Nal’s in Jotunheim during the Convergence, well, that’s one of them somewhere safe if something goes wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Odin said. “We’ve prepared for every eventuality.”

Bor shrugged uneasily, but gestured to the gatekeeper to activate the Bifrost. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

Odin stood back and watched as the Bifrost took Bor away.

****

The great hall was once again filled with the members of the army and the Valkyrie. This time Odin did not hide but sat on the throne and looked over the crowd as they stood together, all waiting for the last piece of the puzzle to be revealed to them.

At the far end of the hall, Loki finished casting his privacy spells, turned and waved to let Odin know the room was now secure from magical spies. Odin picked up Gungnir from where it sat at the side of the throne. The spear was enchanted to always be balanced perfectly no matter who held it, but Odin had always found it heavy.

Maybe he was supposed to.

He took a deep breath and tapped Gungnir lightly on the floor. His own spells of concealment and privacy activated as the warriors and Valkyrie stopped their quiet muttering and turned to look at him.

“For the past three years you have been in training against an enemy attack,” Odin said. “Today, I shall tell you at last who you will be facing.”

He scanned the crowd and found Daianya’s orange eyes watching him from the crowd. He resisted the urge to give her a proud smile. She had begun her training only fifteen short years ago, and now here she was, about to fight in her first war. He never should have tried to stop her, she had a warrior’s heart.

“Three years ago we received word that Malekith, the King of the Dark Elves, intended to invade Asgard with an army of one hundred thousand troops – ” there was a gasp across the hall – “possibly more by now,” Odin continued. “He intends to use the Convergence to cross the distance between us with as little warning as possible, and so catch us at celebrations and unawares. Due to the efforts of our people, we uncovered this plot and have been working against its success ever since. This information is still not widely known across the realm, nor should it be. Our plan for counter attack is to use the Bifrost to prevent Malekith’s troops from ever leaving Svartalfheim. We shall take the fight to him.”

There was a sudden defiant cheer from the crowd. Odin nodded to acknowledge them.

“The portals which form during the Convergence last for thirty minutes, with the full Convergence – where all the realms are truly aligned – only lasting for three. Malekith is likely to begin moving his ships as soon as the portals open, so we must begin landing our troops just before the portals begin to form. By the time the Convergence reaches its height the battle must already be fully joined. This requires careful timing, and we need you all to be alert and ready.”

There was another cheer. Odin smiled this time.

“I have faith in all of you. My father, King Bor, has faith in all of you. So much so that he was willing to leave Asgard for a day this close to the time of the attack. He will lead the charge, but he knows even without him you will be victorious!”

This time the cheer rattled the windows. Odin gave the crowd another nod that was half-bow as his grip on Gungnir tightened. Daianya was not cheering, she was staring across at someone in the crowd. Odin watched as she silently slipped through the crowd to where Loki had come to stand and spoke to him in a low voice.

Another potential traitor. Over forty five thousand people only five in total was still impressive, but Odin felt the sting of betrayal nonetheless. 

Loki wandered through the crowd as Odin straightened and gestured for the Generals to begin their more detailed address of troop movements. Odin went and sat on the throne, watching quietly as Loki reached his target and long fingers drifted a rune-stone across the man’s back. There was a small flash of magic to anyone bothering to look, and the man’s eyes took on a glassy look as his brain partially fell asleep. 

Loki remained behind him while the Generals outlined their strategy for the attack, and guided him out of the hall when it was done. Odin watched them go, his grip on Gungnir still tight. Now that the main secret was shared there was so much that could go wrong between now and the Convergence, but the troops had to know, it would be reckless and cruel to throw them into a battle unprepared.

****

Bor and his small retinue were greeted at the Bifrost site by Grundroth himself. The Jotun King gave him a broad smile and a deep bow. “Your Majesty,” he said. 

Bor bowed in return. “Your Majesty, how are you?” he asked, already on edge and desperate to return to Asgard. 

“I’m well, as is the realm. We’ve been preparing for the Convergence celebrations. How is that going on Asgard?” Grundroth asked.

Bor immediately looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he was implying something, but he quickly realised that the Jotun king was truly just making polite conversation.

“It’s gone well. Everything is in place,” he said. “There will be quite the visual spectacle – lots of fireworks.”

“Do the Asgardian people like fireworks?” Grundroth asked as they climbed aboard the sleigh of ice which would take them back to the Jotun palace.

“Yes they do,” Bor said. 

Grundroth nodded, as though in thought. Bor sat restlessly as the sleigh travelled back to the palace. If he had his way they would conduct all of their business at the Bifrost site, the further he got from it the jumpier he got.

At least they passed through the entrance to the palace and Bor swung himself down from the sleigh almost before it stopped. His men scrambled after him but he didn’t care. He wasn’t afraid of being exposed here; Jotunheim was not the enemy. All he wanted was for his discussions to be concluded as quickly as possible.

Of course there was protocol to take place. It would be considered the height of rudeness for Grundroth not to offer him food and drink, and it would be equally rude for Bor to refuse. He took a glass of wine and ate a kind of frozen sweet – not that Jotunheim had any other kind – and tried not to look impatient.

He failed badly, because it was only a few minutes after they had begun the pleasantries that Grundroth gave him a scrutinising look and suggested that they begin their discussions immediately, should he so prefer.

Grundroth led him to a private room where they could speak plainly.

“You seem to be on edge, if I may be so bold,” he said.

“Anxious to get back to Asgard,” Bor admitted. “There’s been some local trouble and I want to sort it out before it becomes any bigger.”

“Not a threat to your throne, surely?” Grundroth asked, tactfully not mentioning that Bor had previously expressed reservations regarding the stability of Grundroth’s own throne.

“No, nothing like that,” Bor said. “There’s an organisation calling themselves the True Men’s Alliance. Fools who want to change the way we treat our women. They think a woman is only good to serve her husband like a slave. I need to crush them before too much longer.”

Grundroth frowned in confusion. “No woman should ever bow to a man,” he said. “They must be cherished of course, but not controlled.”

Bor’s face didn’t change, but behind his eyes, interest in where he was and what he was doing finally sparked.

“I believe we are here to discuss a woman, are we not? The trade between our two realms is going well, it is profitable for both sides and I see no reason to change it, unless you do?”

“I do not,” Grundroth said, looking please to be getting to the point. “I believe our deal is perfectly fine as is. I only ask what I asked fourteen years ago: Allow Princess Nal to visit my realm and meet me, in hopes of a betrothal.”

Bor nodded. “I’ll warn you now, she can be quite stubborn,” he said. “She may decide she doesn’t like it here.”

Grundroth inclined his head. “I cannot help that, your Majesty, I can only show her the beauty of my realm and hope that she can see it.”

“During the Convergence is a bad time for us now,” Bor said. “The people expect me to be there, and Odin is busy with other things, that Men’s Alliance for one.”

“Your granddaughter would be an honoured guest in my realm, no matter who does or does not accompany her,” Grundroth said. “I will take no offense if you send a minor lord to be her chaperone, as it is clear matters of local state take precedence.”

Bor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Alright then,” he said. “It’s not usual, but I know she will be safe in your realm, as your guest. Nal can come with a retinue of guards to act as her chaperone. If she likes it here well enough then a betrothal can be negotiated afterwards, when things on Asgard are settled.”

Grundroth’s smile widened. “Excellent, your Majesty. I assure you that she will be treated… like a queen.”

Bor found that he was smiling too. “That’s a nice image,” he said.

****

Bor arrived back from Jotunheim before the sun set. He rode back to the palace and immediately called for Odin and Nal to meet him in his office.

 _I wonder what he wants?_ Nal thought as she walked up there.

 _Gee, he goes to Jotunheim and comes back wanting to talk to you. I don’t think you’ll have to think very hard to work it out,_ Anima thought.

 _Unfortunately I think you’re right,_ Nal thought. _I wonder if Grandmother can join us?_

Bestla was not called for, even after Nal asked Odin if she might. Instead, she found herself standing in front of Bor’s desk side by side with her father, waiting nervously for Bor to speak.

“I’ve been to Jotunheim and spoken to King Grundroth,” Bor said. “He’s interested in having Nal as his queen, so I’m sending you to visit him during the Convergence.”

“What?” Nal blurted out. 

“You can’t say you had no idea,” Bor said. “You were always the best candidate.”

“I did have my suspicions, but during the Convergence?” Nal said. “What about the attack?”

“What about it? You’re not a warrior, you won’t have anything useful to do, you might as well go to Jotunheim. Realm politics don’t stop just because Malekith decided to be stupid,” Bor said.

“How did you explain her not having one of us as a chaperone?” Odin asked, curious.

“I told him we were both needed, a little lie about local matters and the Convergence requiring my presence. He agreed. I doubt he wants either of us there anyway,” Bor said.

Odin took a half step towards Nal protectively. “And why would he not want that?” he asked sternly.

“He wants to court her. You’ve courted people before, Son, you know how awkward it can be when their father is watching. I don’t have any fears for her safety. He wants to spoil her, treat her like a queen. I don’t see the problem with that.”

“But I don’t want to be the Queen of Jotunheim,” Nal said. “I don’t think I _can_ be, Jotunheim isn’t like Asgard – ”

“Jotunheim is a realm like any other, the king is unwed and probably wants a child to follow him,” Bor said.

“Yes, but – ”

“So you will go and see how you like it, that is my will,” Bor finished.

“And if I don’t like it?” Nal asked him.

Bor’s expression was unreadable. “You will have to be useful,” he said. “I expect you to think on that, and on the best ways you can be useful to your realm.”

“That realm being Asgard?” Nal said.

Odin half-stepped in front of her. “She’s only thirty-five,” he said. “That’s still very young. A long betrothal wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Anima had a long betrothal and look how that turned out,” Bor said flatly.

Odin’s face became pinched and Bor raised his hand in a plea for peace. “If you truly despise it, or him, or both,” he said to Nal, “Then I will not force you. But you will have to swear to me on Yggdrasil’s branches that you _cannot_ – not will not – live in Jotunheim, or with its King.” 

Nal nodded reluctantly. “So am I to have a retinue?” she asked.

“Of course, I wouldn’t sent you there _completely_ alone,” Bor said. “You will have eight guards to accompany you.”

“Eight?” Nal asked.

“It’s the most I want to spare given what we are facing here. You will be safe, I assure you. Grundroth is plain in his wants but he’s no fool. If any harm comes to you in his realm he knows he will pay for it.”

Nal forced herself to bow.

“Good girl,” Bor said absently. “You leave in just under a month and you’ll stay for three days. You may go.”

Nal turned and walked out of the room.

_The timing surprised me, _thought Anima. _I was sure he’d take you himself after the Convergence.___

___Me too,_ Daianya thought. _I wonder whether his trade deal was a consideration. It expires on the day of the Convergence, unless King Grundroth agreed to extend it.__ _

__Nal sighed heavily and kept walking, down three sets of stairs, along the eastern corridor, and down more flights until she reached their grandmother’s door._ _

__Bestla was resting by the pool, her eyes were closed and her breathing soft as she slept. Nal didn’t wake her, instead she sat down on the floor beside the low daybed where Bestla lay and rested her head against her grandmother’s shoulder as it hung over the edge._ _

__“I don’t want to go to a land of ice and snow,” she said softly, looking out at the still water of the pool. “I’m afraid I’ll freeze so much I’ll never feel warm again.”_ _

__****_ _

__Malekith stood straight backed and determined as the Aether was presented to him._ _

__“We were unable to force a change to its nature, my King,” the scientist said. “So instead we created this holding device, to keep it from causing unwanted chaos, and this helmet, which is heavily spelled to allow the wearer to draw the power of the Aether to themselves and protect them while they channel it.”_ _

__Malekith took the helmet from the scientist and examined it closely. “And this will enable me to use the Aether to do anything I wish?” he asked._ _

__The scientist nodded. “The Aether changes reality by its very nature. Any change you make that can hold naturally in the physical world will be permanent. Any change that is not supported by the rules of nature in this world will hold as long as you feed them power.”_ _

__“Can I use this to turn Asgardian warriors into ashes and dust?” Malekith asked._ _

__“Yes, my King, and they will remain that way,” the scientist said._ _

__“Can I use it to reduce _Asgard_ to ashes and dust?” Malekith asked, turning the helmet in his hands._ _

__“Y-yes my King, if that is your desire,” the scientist said, sounding nervous._ _

__“Does it have the power to turn the matter of the nine realms to dark matter? To flood them with dark energy, and reduce them to darkness forevermore?” Malekith asked._ _

__The scientist looked worried, but took a deep breath. “Yes, my King.”_ _

__Malekith smiled deeply._ _

__“Good.”_ _


	68. The Waiting is When You Live

**Two Days Before the Convergence**

Nal stood by the Bifrost and faced her father with a serious expression.

“I wish you luck,” she said.

“You as well,” Odin said. “I never wanted to send you, you know.”

“Just promise me I can come back,” Nal said. “Promise me that I will always have a home in Asgard.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Odin said at once. “I won’t let you be betrothed against your will.”

“My will is that I don’t go at all, and yet here I am, about to leave,” Nal said. “So promise me that I can come back.”

“Always,” Odin vowed. “You will always have a home on Asgard, I swear it.”

Nal’s body subtly relaxed. “Then I am ready to go,” she said.

Odin smiled at her. “You remind me of your mother when you make that face,” he said.

“I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me before,” Nal said. “Anima yes, but not me.”

“Anima looks like Yrsa reborn, but you have your mother’s manner,” Odin said. He drew her into a hug and held her tightly. “You have her strength.”

Nal wrapped her arms around her father and felt his hand on the back of her neck and his cheek against her forehead. She could feel his life-code through her skin. Some of it she recognised immediately in her own code, the rest arrived in fragments as she dwelled on the fact that this was the first time since her coming of age that her skin and her father’s had come into contact.

Odin did not express himself physically very often, and when he did he was more likely to pat someone on that back than take their hand. Nal was even less physically demonstrative, and so it took until a goodbye on the Bifrost filled with high emotions and uncertainty for them to be drawn in close.

Odin pulled back and laid a kiss on her forehead. Nal felt another trickle of life-code run past her senses. There was something there, something not quite ri – something familiar and yet in a form she had never felt before. She stepped back, still analysing it in her head as Odin retreated out of the range of the Bifrost.

“It’s only for a few days,” he promised. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Stay safe,” Nal said to him and signalled the Bifrost operator to begin.

A moment later she was pulled away from him and sent spiralling across the universe to the distant cold world of Jotunheim.

****

Nal appeared on a hill of ice. The wind was sharp with cold and blowing steadily, making her hair fly up and to her left. King Grundroth was waiting for her a little way away, standing next to a sleigh tethered to a large, four-legged creature Nal didn’t recognise.

He began walking towards her and her small group of Asgardian guardsmen. They were not the best Asgard had to offer. Bor had kept anyone who might actually be worth something in a fight. These men were loyal, but older, and not as quick or as strong as they had been in their younger days.

Nal did her best to look calm and in control as she started walking down the hill towards King Grundroth.

He was tall, and only seemed to get taller the closer she got. He stood at about ten feet, slightly taller than Bestla, although whereas Bestla radiated a sense of comfort in her size, Grundroth just looked intimidating.

Nal’s feet skidded slightly on the ice as she took her next step and she jolted awkwardly before catching herself. Never in her whole life had she wanted to turn and run so badly.

‘Stop it,’ she thought to herself. ‘He’s just a man. Do your duty, play nice, and then you can go home.’

He reached her side and bowed to her. Nal did the same, planting both feet as hard as she could to prevent slipping again.

“Princess Nal, welcome to my realm,” King Grundroth said, giving her a smile.

“Thank you for your invitation,” she said in return. “I am very honoured to be here.”

He held out his hand to help her the rest of the way down the slope. Nal took it and tried not to feel as though her own hand was being engulfed. His palm was large and fleshy. His fingers were a little on the stumpy side compared to the rest of it. Nal fought the urge to shudder as his life-code trickled into her mind. 

All in all not that bad, she realised as they walked. He was strong, powerful, and there was a great deal of natural patience, and a decent amount of empathy. Other parts of him were not so desirable. He had a tendency toward laziness, which probably explained the belly he was forming in his older age. His teeth weren’t as strong as some people’s she’d detected before, although they appeared to have managed alright given that they were still there. His baseline eyesight was very good, and his ears didn’t have that weird curl Nal had detected in some people that made them prone to blockages.

By the time they had reached the bottom of the hill and Grundroth helped her climb up into the sleigh, Nal new everything she ever wanted to know about him.

If she were in the mood to create a child, some of his strength might be a good thing to add in, and the eyesight, but little else. She could do better and she knew it.

The sleigh began moving with a jolt and Nal realised that she was being watched. She turned and looked at a young Jotun man sitting by Grundroth’s side.

“My assistant, and lieutenant,” Grundroth said. “Laufey.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Laufey,” Nal said.

Laufey was staring in what she felt was a rude fashion. Grundroth actually had to nudge him before he jerked back to himself and mumbled a reply.

“I’m honoured to meet you, your Grace.”

‘Be honoured,’ Nal thought, somewhat uncharitably. She knew it wasn’t his fault that she was here, away from Asgard and the upcoming battle, able only through the thoughts of her sisters to know whether Asgard held fast or faltered and fell. It was more than likely that they would be both too occupied while things were actually happening to keep her informed. Instead she would have to wait until it was over.

If Asgard did fall, Nal would be forced to remain on Jotunheim.

The thought chilled her almost as much as the air.

“What time of day is it?” Nal asked, looking out over the gloomy landscape as they drew nearer the palace.

“Evening, your Grace,” Grundroth said. “It gets a lot brighter during the day, and when the snow stops falling, of course.”

“How often does that happen?” Nal asked him.

“Every couple of days or so we see clear skies for a few hours,” Grundroth said.

Nal looked back over the landscape again. This place had been her grandmother’s home for all of her childhood. Nal knew that Bestla missed it, but she had no idea how anyone possibly could. There were no flowers here, no plants, no life at all.

****

Daianya’s Pegasus shot out from the field of battle and back into the waiting area. She felt a rush of excitement at making it through. It was not the first time, not anymore, but the challenge was constant, and the stakes even higher now that everyone knew for sure that this had been no idle exercise.

“Trainees, to me!” Called General Solveig. 

She stood shoulder to shoulder with Commander Gunhild and the three Sub Commanders. Daianya and the other trainees jogged over and assembled into a rough group of lines. General Solveig looked each one of them over with careful and shrewd eyes.

“I spoke to your Squadron Leaders last night,” she said. “With the exception of Harlee and Omilea they are confident that your skills will not be a detriment on the battlefield. You are, as of right now, full Valkyrie assigned to your existing Squadrons. You will serve in any upcoming battles we may face as supply support. As a result you may well engage the enemy in battle, especially should you fall from your own mounts. I’d prefer it if that didn’t happen, but nevertheless you must be prepared. After training today you will report to the barrack’s store and receive your armour. Harlee, Omilea, you will come with me.”

The group broke and ran back to their squadrons. Daianya had suspected it – why train them with real Valkyrie if they weren’t expected to engage after all? But to actually hear it was another thing.

“Got the news? Good, don’t let it distract you,” Nindra said. “Get in line and let’s go again. Welcome to the Squad.”

Daianya mounted up and took the reins of the spare Pegasus, trying not to smile.

**** 

“I hate the waiting,” Anima said, sipping on her hot tea. 

She was down in Bestla’s rooms, wrapped in the overly large cloak and trying to calm her nerves which had been building slowly for months.

“Waiting for a terrible event is difficult. The pressure of it all can make you wish it was just over,” Bestla said. “But I spend my childhood at war, my dear, and I can tell you that you learn to appreciate the waiting, for that’s when you do your living.” 

Anima frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Bestla smiled and held up her cup. “No one sips tea on the battlefield. No one has time to talk about the latest spell they created or the flowers in the garden. No one thinks about anything other than survival, blood and death. The waiting times are the times when you can still connect to your loved ones. There is tension, yes, perhaps the fighting will start tomorrow and you will lose them forever, but for now there is quiet, for now you can talk to them, or even tell them a joke and hear them laugh.”

Anima took another sip. “I hope I don’t live through so many battles that the thought of them coming stops affecting me,” she said.

“I hope so to, my dear, it was not a good life that I had as a child, but it was the only one available,” Bestla said. “The end of the war was like new snow, clean and gentle and hushed.”

Anima smiled at her grandmother and took a deep, meditative breath. 

“Feel better?” Bestla asked.

“A little,” Anima admitted. “But I wish Nal was here instead of making chit chat with the King of Jotunheim.”

“I wish I could have gone with her,” Bestla said. “But I wasn’t diplomatic enough and my husband said no.”

“What?” Anima asked.

Bestla sighed and shook her head slightly in embarrassment. “I took it upon myself to berate my husband for sending her at all. I told him it wasn’t the Jotun way and that Nal must not be bound to a king the way an Asgardian princess might be. I raised my voice so loudly I’m surprised you didn’t hear it in your tower. After that he knew my thoughts too well to trust me to go with her and not sabotage whatever match he thinks he will make.”

Anima smothered a giggle. “I can’t even imagine you yelling at him,” she said.

“I am capable of losing my temper under the right circumstances,” Bestla said. “But I should have held it in this case. Bor is a warrior at heart. If he is hit he will rise and strike back, if he is pushed he will push back harder, and if he is yelled at he will dig his heels in and refuse you anything. I should have asked to go with her in a calm tone, offers to smooth the way between them by explaining Jotun and Asgardian traditions and expectations. I was foolish and now the poor girl will have to manage the old king by herself.”

“Nal can do it,” Anima said. “I want her back for my sake, not because I think she can’t handle Jotunheim. If anything, Jotunheim will struggle to handle her.”

**** 

Hela drew blood on her strike and felt a stab of excitement. Wait, no, it was a stab of a dagger. Loki had struck her again.

She scowled and pulled it out of her belly as he waited for her to recover.

“If I was able to die you would be in a lot of trouble,” she said to him.

“If you were able to die you’d already be dead by now,” Loki said. The cut she had made on his arm was only shallow, and Hela suspected that he had allowed it in order to drive the dagger home.

“You’re getting better,” Loki said. “You have more control and you’re getting hit less. You will last longer on the battlefield before having to stop and pull out other peoples’ weapons.”

Hela sighed heavily. Training with Loki was boring, and she never practiced between their sessions, but the knowledge that she might one day kill him, even accidently, was what kept her coming back.

“Let’s go again,” she said.

Loki raised both his weapons in a defensive stance, but they were interrupted by Bor and Odin entering the training ring.

“No more,” Bor said. “All training is suspended as of now. Everyone is to rest and ensure all the little bumps and bruises are taken care of.”

Odin nodded at Loki. “We’re heading inside to review some maps, I want you to join us.”

Hela reluctantly lowered her blades, only to find Bor looking at her.

“I’m glad to see you taking an interest in improving your technique,” he said. Hela smiled at his rarely-given praise.

“Let’s go then,” Loki said. “I take it wine is out of the question?”

“I’ll lay down and die if that happens,” Bor said. “But only one glass until dinner.”

****

Nal sat in her guest room and looked at herself in the mirror. It was almost dinner time. She’d been shown to her room by the king himself, which would be a break in protocol if she were on Asgard, but she had no idea whether it was here on Jotunheim.

The one named Laufey had not stopped staring at her. It had made her feel self-conscious and even more nervous than she had been. He was almost the same height as Grundroth, just a little shorter, and he had a long face with an equally long nose. He had stood behind Grundroth’s shoulder the whole way through Nal’s tour of the palace, and just… stared at her.

Nal wondered whether he’d ever seen a woman other than his mother before, and realised there was a good chance he had not.

“I’m nobody’s viewing spectacle,” she muttered, pulling on her necklace. The diamond in the centre didn’t flash as much in the dim light of Jotunheim than it did at home.

In two days Asgard would do battle against the Dark Elves. In three days she could go home. Nal reminded herself that she only had to make it that long.

The words of Bestla came back to her. They had been standing by the pool an hour before Nal ahd left to head to the Bifrost, and Bestla had given her a deep hug.

“Remember, you are a woman, you are the one who gives the honours. Do not forget it, and certainly do not let him forget it,” she had said seriously. “You are already a queen, he cannot give you that. You are already in control, he cannot give it to you. You are a _woman_ and he will bow to that, and if he does not, _make him_.”

Nal had smiled and tried to hide her nervousness. “I will,” she promised. “And I will tell you all about how I sent them all scurrying about when I get back.”

It had been easy to promise, not so easy to carry out. Grundroth was _big_ , and he moved like a man used to unquestionable authority. He was older too, old enough to have the confidence a young man like Laufey lacked. Nal wasn’t as certain as Bestla had been that she could make him bow so easily.

But still, it was time for dinner, and time for her to be diplomatic. She would never marry him, but it was rude to simply say that outright, especially given that she was expected to stay for three days.

She’d wait until she got home then make Odin tell Bor of her decision. Or maybe she’d ask Loki to do it, he’d enjoy that.

There was a knock on her door, and Nal rose and opened it. It was a member of her retinue; behind him stood Laufey, who had been sent to fetch her to dinner.

He was still staring at her. Nal stepped out of the room and took a deep breath for courage. “Laufey, yes? Shall we go?”

He nodded mutely and held out his arm for her to take. Nal laid her fingers lightly on his arm and his gaze travelled down to where their skin touched.

“It’s this way,” he managed and started walking. Nal didn’t say anything, she was picking up bits of pieces of code. He was also very strong, cunning, or at least the potential to be so. He was patient, and observant. He would make a very strong ally or a terrible enemy. Were he not so young and overwhelmed by her very existence, she had no doubt that he would be trying the same tricks and pressure as Grundroth was.

They reached the dining room, which was large enough for twenty Jotnir, but only set for five. Nal’s chair had a small set of ice steps leading up to it, and a cushion for her to sit on.

King Grundroth smiled broadly at her. “Welcome,’ he said. “Were the rooms to your satisfaction?”

Nal thought about listing as many complaints as she could to see how dedicated to wanting her he really was, but disregarded the thought as a side effect of spending time with Loki. Her father’s level-headedness prevailed and she forced a polite smile. “They are excellent,” she said.

She was joined at dinner by Grundroth, his general, General Thrym, Thrym’s second in command Commander Groupr, and Laufey. 

The food was cold. Everything was cold on Jotunheim, but the taste was good, although unfamiliar.

“I was told you had an interest in gardens,” Grundroth said as they ate.

“I do,” Nal said. “I have designed thirteen gardens back home, and I have plans for many more.”

“Jotunheim may look like a land of pure ice and snow, but we have a number of plants hardly enough to survive,” Grundroth said. “Some even flower.”

Nal was interested in spite of herself. She had been told that nothing of consequence grew on Jotunheim, even Bestla had said as much. “Oh? I have not studied the flora of Jotunheim much.”

“They grow near the coast, where it is slightly warmer, and in the caves beneath the surface,” Grundroth said.

“The King’s Glacier comes out near the bay where the frost-flowers grow,” Laufey said, or rather, blurted. 

“Yes,” Grundroth said. “It’s almost a month’s travel to go that far, but the flowers are very pretty when they appear.”

“The King’s Glacier?” Nal asked.

“It’s where we put the dead kings,’ Laufey said, earning himself a look from Thrym.

“Perhaps it would be better not to speak of death at the dinner table,” Groupr said pointedly.

Nal took another small bite of her dinner. “No, please, unless it’s taboo. I know nothing of Jotun death rights.”

Grundroth gave her a smile which she suspected was a little bit patronising. “Our realm is too cold for bodies to be placed in the ground, they will simply last forever. Instead we place our dead on the glaciers to be carried out to the sea. The glaciers travel slowly, and so family can come and visit the graves of their loved ones as they need to. Many brothers with a strong bond will be placed together in death. Eventually as the family ages and people are forgotten, the glacier moves them closer and closer to the sea. By the time they are carried to the waves they and all who knew them are long gone, and so they will not be missed.”

“The King’s Glacier is where we bury the kings,’ Laufey added, and then tried to hide a cringe of embarrassment. It was, after all, in the name.

Nal gave him a polite nod. “So nothing like the Cave of King’s?” She asked.

“No, the Cave of King is how our rulers are chosen,” Grundroth said. “Only the best survive.”

He had placed a slight inflection on the word ‘best’, as though to convince her of his superiority, but Nal wasn’t fooled. His code told her all she needed to know. Grundroth was not a bad candidate to be – at least partly – a father, but he wasn’t perfect. The thought of using _only_ his code to create a child made her want to recoil. She owed her children better than that.

“I’d like to see it, is it far from here?” Nal asked.

Grundroth chuckled. Definitely patronising, Nal thought. 

“The Cave of King’s is a dangerous place, only one in a hundred survive it, and one in a thousand becomes a king,’ Grundroth said. “Ask Laufey here, he returned without the sign of kingship.”

Laufey looked down at his plate and said nothing.

“Although,” Grundroth said in a kinder tone. “He’s a strong and capable man, I have faith that with a few more years’ experience he will be able to try again and emerge victorious.”

Laufey looked up again, surprised.

“I’d still like to see it,” Nal said, “If it’s not too far from here.”

“The problem isn’t the distance, in fact it’s by the temple just outside of the palace,” Thrym said. “The problem is that it doesn’t look like anything but a cave. The danger is far below the surface, where the cold turns deadly.”

Nal frowned, and saw Grundroth looking at her with a knowing expression. “You are an intelligent woman, I can tell,” he said. “You are asking yourself how it can be colder in the cave than the surface, when all the other caves have protection from the wind and even some warmth from the realm’s core if you go down deep enough.”

“I was curious before, now I’m intrigued,” Nal said.

“I do not have the answer for you,” Grundroth said, “For any researchers who try to study the phenomenon freeze to death long before they reach the cause of the cold. I only know that at the end of the cave, far below, in air colder than any here have ever felt before, that is where kings are granted their power.”

He pressed a hand to the table and there was a suggestion of light which travelled from it to in front of where Nal sat. Before her eyes a perfect wine glass grew from the table. It was as clear as crystal and as thin as her fingernail, but when she picked it up she could feel its strength.

Grundroth picked up the wine bottle and poured her a measure as she held the glass. “Kings have more power, and more control, than any other Jotun,” he said. “Our ability to survive the Cave is a very rare trait indeed.”

Nal looked back at him. To her annoyance she was actually intrigued. She had felt nothing in his code that would indicate a special skill which might help him survive, and yet he must possess it. Granted she had only touched his skin for a brief moment. A trait like that was probably quite complicated and difficult to pick up with a single touch.

She took a sip of her wine and didn’t say anything.

“If you want to see the Cave of Kings then I would be happy to show the entrance to you,” Grundroth offered at her silence, “As long as you to not raise your expectations too high. As Thrym said, from the entrance it simply looks like every other cave.”

Nal put her glass back down onto the table and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for the offer, I would love to see it, and the temple as well, if it is not forbidden for any reason.”

“Nothing would be forbidden from you,” Grundroth said quietly as she picked her fork up again.

****

Odin looked over the map of troop movements again. His head hurt.

“You need to relax,” Loki said. “We have done all we can, the warriors are resting, you much as well.”

“I can’t relax,” Odin said. “Something is wrong.”

“What is it?” Loki asked, looking down at the map on the desk.

“Not there,” Odin said. “In my heart, in my soul, in wherever I keep the power Yggdrasil grants me. I feel uneasy for the first time since my first battle, when I called on my god power and became the God of War.”

“If you’ve got a tickle, we need to find it,” Loki said. “I trust your tickles.”

Odin shook his head. “I don’t think we will. You are right that we’ve done everything we can. The defences are tight enough and powerful enough to hold back an army twice what Malekith has put before us. Whatever we’ve missed must be with him. There is no chance of us finding out what it might be now.”

“I could go and – ”

“No. If you go there’s a good chance you won’t make it back in time,” Odin said.

“I’ll hitch a ride on one of Malekith’s ships,” Loki said.

“The whole idea is not to let his ships leave Svartaflheim,” Odin said.

“Then I’ll be right where you want me to be when the fighting starts,” Loki said. “Either I’ll make it back with new information or I’ll see you on the battlefield. What do you have to lose?”

Odin looked at him across the desk. “You?” he suggested.

“It’s not like you to get sappy,” Loki said.

“Something won’t stop nagging me,” Odin said. “It’s affecting my mood. I actually felt relieved that Nal wouldn’t be on Asgard while we fight, but Asgard is not supposed to suffer any damage, not if we have prepared correctly.”

Loki walked over to him, placed his hands on Odin’s shoulders, and looked him steadily in the eye.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he said in an almost stern tone. “Sending Nal to Jotunheim was, is, and will always remain, a terrible idea. But if your feeling is that people will be safer away from the realm then we can always start sending them to Vanaheim. Malekith will get some warning that something is up but we are so close now that he can’t reach us now any way _other_ than with the Convergence portals. It can be done if we start tonight.”

Odin took a slow breath inwards. “No. We’ll never move everyone in time, and those left behind will almost certainly start panicking if they think they are in danger. We’ve shielded the realm as best we could; now we have to wait and hope that whatever else Malekith thinks to try is not a match for our army and our defences.”

Loki smiled gently and pulled Odin into a hug. “Wanna make out?” he asked in Odin’s ear, provoking a laugh and a shove.

“Go and get some _sleep_ Loki, it’s good for you,” Odin said.

“I will if you do,” Loki challenged.

Odin sighed. “Very well, I shall go to bed.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“…”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” Loki said, giving up on Odin and skipping his way out the door.

Odin shook his head and sighed.


	69. The Original Child

The entertainments went into the night. Nal wondered whether King Grundroth had ordered them to be to account for the time difference between the two realms, given that Nal had left mid-morning and arrived on the edge of the evening, but she realised as the night went on that the Jotnir people simply didn’t need as much sleep as the Asgardians. Nal herself frequently spent hours of the night reading, or repotting plants, or carving new flowers and vines into her wooden bed. She’d covered the whole bedframe by now, and had started on the window frame. Once this was all over and she went home again, she was looking forward to adding some new flowers. 

Nal wished she could feel some of the excitement shared by King Grundroth’s court, but the main source of the excitement was the upcoming Convergence, and every wide smile and piece of excited chatter just reminded her of what was really going to happen. But still, she put a courtly smile on her face and did her best to look interested in what Jotunheim had to offer.

It was several hours after midnight when things wrapped up and King Grundroth bid her goodnight. He escorted Nal back to her rooms, but was too crafty – or had too good a sense of self-preservation – to try and press her into anything more than a bow and a wish for a good sleep.

The bed was made of ice.

Nal had felt the cold when she first arrived. Even coming from Asgard’s winter hadn’t made much of a difference as the cold on Jotunheim was far deeper and harsher, but within a few minutes her body had begun to adjust, and now she felt comfortable in her normal nightgown.

Loki had told her that Jotnir evolved in real time, and Nal had never truly felt uncomfortable for more than a few minutes on Asgard regardless of the time of year or what the weather was doing. This was the first time she could honestly say she had been put to the test though. The warmest day on Jotunheim was still three times colder than the coldest day on Asgard.

She climbed onto the furs that covered the bed. There was a mattress made by stuffing stitched furs with some kind of soft material, and more furs to pull over her while she slept.

She wondered how her retinue was doing. Surely they had been provided with enough heat to sleep comfortably? Bor had visited Jotunheim and stayed overnight before, it’s not as though the Jotnir king didn’t know how to keep Asgardians alive.

She huffed a little and climbed back out of the bed. They were her men; it was her responsibility to ensure that they were well taken care of.

She pulled on her dress again and stuck her head out through the curtain of ice droplets that served as a door. Wood would not last long on Jotunheim, and metal hinges were likely to warp and shatter.

“Can you please fetch the captain of my guard?” she asked the nearest Jotun on duty. “I wish to speak with him before I sleep.”

He gave her a bow and headed off down the corridor. He did not go far; Grundroth was not stupid enough to isolate her from her retinue, Bor would not like it if he tried.

The captain arrived a moment later, still bundled up in his fur coat.

“Come in, Captain,” Nal said.

He stepped inside and his face took on an impressed expression.

“Is it nice in here compared to where you are?” Nal asked.

“It’s more beautiful, your Grace,” the Captain said.

“Have they warmed your rooms?” Nal asked.

“They’ve tried, your Grace. There’s a stone pit in the centre with a fire and coal for feeding it. We’ve got plenty of furs as well,” he said.

“Is that going to be enough?” Nal asked.

He went to shrug and stopped himself. “We’ll not freeze to death, if that’s what you mean, your Grace. It’s hard to warm a place as cold as this.”

Nal nodded. “As long as you are alright,” she said.

The Captain nodded, then hesitated.

“What is it?” Nal asked.

“Well, your Grace, may we beg your permission to escort you in shifts? The Jotnir only sleep four hours a night or so, but if we don’t rest properly we’ll be useless, sluggish and slow, that is, should anything happen.”

He said the last part in a very low voice, aware that the ice-bead curtain was no protection against sound.

Nal nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Tomorrow I will take four of you with me through the city in the morning and the other four can accompany me after lunch. I have been promised a look at the Cave of Kings, which isn’t far from the palace or so I’ve been told.”

He bowed again. “Thank you, your Grace.”

Nal smiled at him. “Thank you, you’d better go to bed.”

He bowed again and left her alone. Satisfied that she’d done her duty, Nal changed back into her nightgown and climbed once more into fur-covered bed.

The room was beautiful. There were patterns of flowers and winding ropes along the walls and ceiling. They must have been done by Grundroth himself, only the king had the kind of skill to make such delicate and intricate designs. 

Nal rolled onto her side as she thought more about it. The Cave of Kings somehow gave the Kings of Jotunheim the power to create and shape ice far better than anyone else, man or woman. The glass Grundroth had made for her had grown up in just over a second; it would have taken her almost thirty to shape something in the shape of a glass, never mind the thinness of the rim, the clearness of the glass and the frosted pattern he placed upon it.

Nal had only ever seen shaped ice that was lumpy, doing what ice did when it was shaped naturally. What Grundroth did was exceptional, but his code didn’t _feel_ exceptional.

There had to be something buried more deeply within him. Nal had only gotten the briefest of access to his code, after all. There had to be something there that the Cave of Kings activated somehow.

Nal shifted, rolling onto her other side. And then there was Father. Some of his code had been easy to read right down to its most detailed depths. It was, after all, the same as her own. The other part had been tougher, that had been the part of him that she hadn’t gotten.

She burrowed down more deeply and tried to figure out why she felt something was wrong when she’d touched him.

He’d felt Jotun, of course, and Asgardian, but that made sense given his parentage. But… but…

… the Jotun part had been the part that also belonged to Nal. In fact, she realised with a frown, the _only_ part of him she’d received had been Jotun. Every piece of Asgardian code had felt foreign to her.

In theory it was _possible_ , just terribly unlikely. Code was arranged into packets, those packets, some from each parent, would join together and tell you who you were meant to be – at least that’s how it worked if you were Asgardian. But when it came to having children of your own the packets would undergo a kind of mixing, a random swapping of parts, so that your children could receive either an unaltered packet from either grandparent, or a new packet that was a blend of the two. This meant that the chances of Odin passing on all thirteen unaltered packets directly from his mother were practically zero.

And yet that’s what had happened. Nal, in terms of her life code, was technically the child of Bestla and Yrsa.

Nal sat upright with a gasp of realisation.

Her grandmother had been denied the chance to make a daughter. She’d _known_ that once she had given Bor his three sons that she would have no more children. In fact, she probably hadn’t been certain that her weakened body could have even that many. So she’d done something to Odin. She’d built him – somehow, in some way – to ensure that his daughters would receive only code from Bestla, and none from Bor.

She had a daughter through her son. 

Nal lay back down, only to sit up again. She was restless. She wanted to go home right that second and speak to her grandmother about it. No woman had ever done something like that before.

“That’s how she knew,” Nal whispered to herself. “She knew Hela wasn’t Odin’s before she touched her because _Hela’s not Jotun_.”

Had it not been for the attack that killed her mother and caused three children to exist when only one was expected, all of Odin’s daughters would have been Jotnir.

“I’m the original child,” Nal whispered. “Me.”

Her eyes stung painfully as pressure built behind them. Nal hissed between her teeth and pressed her hands against them to stop the tears that were trying to force their painful way out of her.

“Stop it; don’t be silly,” she said to herself. “It’s not like the others aren’t Father’s real children. Born of magic or a child of his choosing is a perfectly legitimate way to gain a parent.”

But still, the knowledge made her feel warm inside. Even if the attack hadn’t happened, even if her mother had lived, Nal would have been born. She would have been exactly who she was now. Not, as she had always imagined, one part of an Asgardian-Jotun-Mortal hybrid. 

Bestla had been clever, and tricky, Nal thought as she curled back down under the covers. She hadn’t gotten enough of a chance to really _study_ Odin’s code before he pulled away from her. There had to be some kind of trigger, something that would force the child – regardless of her mother – to grow as a Jotun. Nal’s ‘mortal’ code wasn’t anything that didn’t appear in all the races of the nine realms. Her height, her features, the fact that she had two arms and two legs, that all came from her mother and as such did not interfere with Bestla’s grand plan. She’d left space for that code to fill, but only where it didn’t matter. 

“It’s a pity Father hasn’t had any more daughters,” Nal said to herself. The thought of Bor’s face when presented with another Jotun granddaughter made her smile. “That would be fun. Loki would laugh until he was sick.”

****

King Grundroth turned to face his most trusted men and held his hands out. 

“Well?” He asked. “How do you think it went?”

“She’s not running straight back to Asgard; I’d say it went well,” Thrym said.

“You intrigued her with the Cave of Kings,” Groupr said. “She wants to know your secret.”

Grundroth shrugged. “She’s welcome to stay and try to find it,” he said with a sly grin.

The men chuckled in response. 

“Do you think it’s enough?” Laufey asked. “She seemed distracted during the entertainment, I thought.”

“Watching her closely, were you?” Grundroth asked him.

Laufey immediately looked alarmed, but Grundroth laughed. 

“Relax, my boy, I was the same the first time I laid eyes on a woman who wasn’t my dear mother. She’s quite a bit daintier than the women I’ve seen though.”

“She’s tiny,” Laufey said. “Even for an Asgardian she’s a short.”

“Just over five foot I’d say,” Thrym said. “If she’ll have you you’re going to have to get creative.”

“If she has me, I will allow no disrespect,” Grundroth said, but not too harshly. He and Thrym had known one another for a long time and he knew the General was not serious in his ribbing. 

“Do you think there’s a chance?” Groupr asked quietly. “There’s only two days left before she goes home, she’s not running away from you, but she’s not running towards you either.”

“All I can do is try,” Grundroth said, “And put pressure on Bor afterwards. She doesn’t have to want to stay, just not hate the place so much that she won’t do as her King commands.”

****

Malekith gave the order to bring the Arc in to land with a confident voice. He was less than thirty-six hours from victory. The Aether sat in its containment device, twisting and pulsing behind him. It’s presence made him even more confident than the battalion of Kursed who were ready and willing to take to the battlefield. 

One hundred and twenty thousand soldiers, five hundred Kursed, and one Aether.

“We’re so close,” Malekith said to Algrim, who gave him a deep bow. 

“My King, you shall rule over all the nine realms – or should I say eight realms – once we are finished,” Algrim said.

Malekith grinned at the thought. “Once Asgard falls I shall use the power of the Aether to twist reality around the other realms to plunge them into darkness. Our troops shall have the advantage and take them easily,” he said. “And if they choose to resist, then the full power of the Aether shall be unleashed upon them. I do not need them, Algrim, they will bow, or they will become dust.”

****

Nal woke to the smell of breakfast, which was brought in by Laufey. She sat up in bed and watched him as he tried to sneak his way quietly across the room to put her food on the table.

“Good morning,” she said.

He jumped and almost spilled her food all over himself, but managed to catch it at the last minute.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

Nal gave him a smile. “You didn’t, the smell of the food did.”

Laufey looked down at the tray in his arms. “It’s fish, with seaweed salad.”

“It smells pretty good,” Nal said, climbing off her bed and pulling on a dressing gown. “What is your role here in King Grundroth’s court? You joined us for dinner but now you are bringing me breakfast like a servant.”

Jotnir were not know for blushing, which right now Laufey no doubt considered to be a very good thing.

“I… I asked the servant to let me deliver it to you,” he admitted.

“Is King Grundroth going to be angry at you?” Nal asked.

“Not if you don’t tell him,” Laufey said.

“If you weren’t planning on waking me, then you must have been planning to watch me sleep,” Nal said bluntly. 

The look of absolute mortification on Laufey’s face as his plan was exposed told her that she’d guessed correctly.

“I’ve never seen a woman before you,” he blurted out. “Apart from my mother, of course but mothers don’t count as women… I mean… that is…”

“I understand,” Nal said, trying not to sound too amused. “I’m surprised you haven’t gone travelling. My grandmother told me young men without a mother go from stronghold to stronghold to see if any woman will take them. They only come here once their travels are done.”

“My oldest brother decided we should come here and settle first,” Laufey said. “He said that the King’s court is made up of factions of brothers and that, as the newest faction, we needed to be large and strong.”

“But you stayed?” Nal questioned.

“I tried to enter the Cave of Kings,” Laufey admitted. “I thought if I could conquer it then I could be a king, and kings surely must interest women.”

Nal bit back her first response, which was that a queen of her own stronghold probably cared even less for kings than normal men, and instead picked up the cup of chilled tea from the tray and took a sip.

“The Cave of Kings is fascinating to me,” she said. “I would like to know how it grants the kings the power they have.”

“Ancient magic,” Laufey said. “If you are worthy, it gives you the power, if you are not then it takes your life.”

“But you returned, King Grundroth said,” Nal said.

“I turned back when I realised I was going to die to go any further,” Laufey said. “Next time I shan’t hurry so much. The cold overtook me before I could adjust.”

“So patience is a key part of becoming the king?” Nal asked.

“That and the ability to withstand a cold so strong it makes all others seem like an Asgardian cooking fire,” Laufey said.

Nal nodded. “I look forward to seeing it this afternoon.”

“It’s not that interesting to look at,” Laufey said. “From the outside it just looks like a cave, and on the inside it’s just dark all the way down. You are allowed to bring torches but they don’t survive.”

“I’m still looking forward to it. Thank you for bringing me breakfast,” Nal said.

Laufey heard the unspoken dismissal and gave her a deep, slightly jerky, bow; then he fled.

Nal sat down and ate her fish. It was cold. It made sense, but for some reason she’d thought it must have been warm when she’d first smelled it.

It was the fact that she _had_ smelled it that had fooled her. Cold food rarely carried strong scents very far, whereas this had wafted like a warm dish.

Or maybe her nose had adjusted to the cold along with the rest of her body. What was Jotunheim like with heightened senses?

Struck by a sudden thought, Nal went to the window and looked out over the land beyond. Even with the falling snow and heavy clouds overhead the realm didn’t look dim anymore. It looked brighter and more colourful. The blues were a deeper blue, and there were shades of grey, green and even brown. 

She turned and went back to her breakfast, lost in thought.

****

Odin sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the plans in front of him, but really there was nothing else to do but wait. Instead his thoughts kept flickering back to Nal. She wouldn’t agree to marry Grundroth; he already knew that as surely as he knew the feel of Yggdrasil’s power inside of him. What would she do if Bor tried to insist? Odin sighed heavily. He already knew the answer. Nal would run. She’d take to the stars with her sisters by her side. She was stubborn enough to do it, and the three of them together would make a formidable team.

Did Bor even have any inkling that this was what he would soon be facing? Probably not; the King of Asgard was born to be a warrior, a man who excelled on the battlefield. That was the place most people would assume Odin belonged too, given that he was the God of War. But war was not battle. War was made up of battles, but also spies and intrigue, lies and deception, diplomacy and compromise. Odin did not hold the value of battle any higher than he did statesmanship.

Nal would run, and run far if Odin did not find a way to broker some kind of arrangement that kept her and Bor happy, and he didn’t see any way to do it.

He sighed again, blowing the air out of his lungs through pursed lips.

“Cheer up, it doesn’t happen until tomorrow,” Loki said from the corner of the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” Odin asked him.

“Not long, since forever, you decide,” Loki said, walking over.

“You like to lurk in corners,” Odin said.

“I’m the God of Corners,” Loki replied, smiling as Odin joined in with him to make a chorus. “Am I getting predictable?”

“Never,’ Odin said. “But one day I would like to know what kind of god you really are.”

Loki shrugged. “I’m the God of Unsated Curiosity,” he said.

Odin gave him a curious look but Loki just took the opportunity to steal Odin’s glass of wine.


	70. A Terrible Deal

The city was beautiful. Now that Nal’s eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light of Jotunheim, she could see just how beautiful it was beneath the snow and the ice. The buildings were all tall, each floor had to be at least fifteen feet tall to accommodate the range of more common Jotun heights, and each building had at least five floors or shops, living quarters and private workshops.

The streets were covered with a blanket of snow, but there were people out sweeping away the worst of the drifts at all times of the day. The snow was then shovelled into sleighs created from ice and pulled out of the city by larger Jotun men. 

King Grundroth showed her the larger and more impressive ice sculptures that were dotted around the city squares, and a few of the older and more impressive buildings. He also showed her the wide open areas where the people of the city could sit outside and enjoy the snow. 

There were no plants though. Nal found herself looking over the frozen spaces with a gardener’s eye. She knew of a few plant which could handle the temperatures of Jotunheim. It would be hard work to make anything terribly impressive with so little variety, but if they were planted in patterns with pathways between, and then there was the slight worry that they would do too well and become invasive, so they would have to be watched…

She suddenly jolted out of her daydream. No. No gardens in the snow. No plans of any kind. She was not going to stay in Jotunheim.

“I thought we could have lunch by the Glacier,” Grundroth said. “Not one of the…”

“Dead ones?” Nal filled in for him.

“No, those are a fair way out of the city, this one is used for skating and playing sports,” Grundroth said. “Do you skate?”

Nal nodded. “In the wintertime back home the smaller lakes freeze over and the local councils have them smoothed out for skating.”

“I should have asked you to bring your skates along then,” Grundroth said. “Perhaps another time, but the area is very pretty even just to sit at, and you can see the fish swimming under the ice.”

The Glacier was huge. The width of it alone was twice as wide as Asgard’s widest river, and it was totally frozen in place. Nal looked down through the cloudy ice to see shadows of movement far below.

“How do you get to the fish?” she asked.

“Further up the way there are fishing holes,” Grundroth said. “They’re very deep and quite wide. They get re-dug every morning because the water freezes overnight.”

They ate at an ice table shaped by Grundroth himself, who watched Nal’s face closely as he called forth an elaborate setting decorated with flowers down each leg of the table and chairs.

“What happens down in the Cave of Kings to give you such power?” Nal asked him, looking over his creation with interest.

“It’s a secret, I’m afraid, known only to the kings themselves,” Grundroth said. 

Nal touched one of the flower petals with the tip of one finger, oblivious to the way Grundroth was watching her almost hungrily. “It has to be quite a special set of code,” she said.

Grundroth smiled indulgently and sat down, still watching her. “I’m sure it is, although as a man I will never know what it feels like to read code, and as a woman you will never know what it feels like to shape ice like a king. Still, perhaps that is a reason to complement one another.”

Nal paused in her movements and straightened, taking her seat with a stiff back and a formal expression. “I would very much like to see the Cave for myself,” she said.

“In a few hours, I promise you,’ Grundroth said.

****

Daianya was fidgeting. Her new Valkyrie uniform was on the table in her room and the sight of it was making her nervous. 

“I wonder if Father ever gets nervous before a battle?” she said.

“I doubt it; he’s the God of War,” Anima said. She was sitting on Daianya’s bed. The two sisters had decided without speaking to spend the last day before the battle together. 

“I’ve heard him say that war is more than just battles,” Daianya said. “But I suppose you’re right. This isn’t a last minute call to arms when you don’t have time to be nervous, this waiting is horrible.”

“Grandmother says that the waiting is when you live,” Anima said. “She’d know, she grew up in a war.”

“Are you going to stay with her while the battle is going on?” Daianya asked.

Anima nodded. “All the trainee Valkyries and warriors are going to be sent down to her rooms to stay safely out of the way. I can’t think of anywhere else to be, so I’m going with them.”

“You won’t be able to watch the battle from down there,” Daianya said.

“Most people won’t see the battle, they’ll only find out who won and how bad it was after it’s over,” Anima said.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Daianya asked. “I couldn’t stand not knowing.”

Anima shook her head. “I couldn’t stand watching it unfold as people who go to defend me fall and die,” she said.

Daianya went over to her and sat down on the bed beside her. “I promise I won’t die,” she said.

“You can’t make that promise,” Anima said. “Neither can Father, or Uncle Loki, or even the King or – well okay Hela can – but not anybody else.”

“I promise you I will do my best not to die,” Daianya amended.

“That’s better,” Anima said.

“I wonder how Nal’s going?” Daianya said. “I’m not sure what time it is on Jotunheim or even if she’s busy.”

“Let me ask, the worst she can do is tell me to scram and let her sleep,” Anima said.

 _Nal, how are things going? Has he proposed properly yet?_ she thought to their sister.

 _He’s heavily hinting at it, but said nothing outright,_ Nal thought back to them. _Jotunheim is prettier than I thought it would be, more colourful too, but I still want to go home. I hate the idea of being here during the Convergence._

 _Just hang in there, we’ll meet you at the Bifrost gate when you return,_ Daianya thought.

“If only he wasn’t a king with a king’s ego,” Anima said to Daianya. “Nal would destroy him in seconds and then she could come home.”

They both felt Nal’s amusement through their connection.

 _He’s trying to talk to me, I had better pay attention,_ Nal thought. _Stay safe Daianya, and you too Anima._

 _See you soon,_ Anima thought, and Daianya echoed.

“Are you going to wear your pendant with your uniform?” Anima asked Daianya. 

“I’m afraid it might be distracting, the chain is not really suitable for battle,” Daianya said.

Anima rose from the bed in a huff. “You should have said something sooner,” she said. “We only have a day to find you a better chain!”

“Anima…” Daianya started.

“Come on, let’s go to the jeweller’s in the main street, he makes chokers and things, they’ll be far more stable on you than a dangly chain.”

Daianya almost argued, but she had the feeling that Anima needed something to do, and the main street wasn’t far, if the call went out early she could still be back in enough time.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said. 

****

The Temple was a very impressive building, similar in scale to the palace but with far less rooms. The main room at the centre was so tall Nal had to crane her neck to see the top. 

In the centre of the room was the Casket of Ancient Winters, sitting on its plinth and swirling with bright blue light.

“Where did it come from?” Nal asked.

“The Cave of Kings,” Grundroth said. “The stories say that in the heart of the Cave at the very end there is a crystal so frozen by the creation of Jotunheim that it radiates cold even now. The first Jotun king took some of this crystal back with him and locked it into the Casket, to use its power when needed.”

“Is it true?” Nal asked.

“What?”

“Is it true? You are a king, you went to the end of the Cave of Kings to be so, so is it true?” Nal asked.

Grundroth smiled and shook his head. “The depths of the Cave are a secret, your grace, one I will take to my grave.”

Nal sighed and looked up at the wall in front of her; it was covered with names.

“How many are there?” she asked.

“More than two hundred thousand have entered the Cave, roughly ten thousand returned, only ninety eight have been kings,” Grundroth said. “Look, there is Laufey’s name, he is one of the lucky ones to return alive.”

“Where’s yours?” Nal asked as sweetly as she could manage.

Grundroth awkwardly pointed quite a bit higher up the wall. “Up there,” he said.

“So long ago,” Nal said. “Were you a very young man?”

“I was three thousand,” Grundroth mumbled.

“Hmm,” Nal said.

“The oldest names are over here, the writing went all the way up this wall and back down this one,” Grundroth said, walking away from her to point out the ancient runes. Nal inspected them.

“This is hard to read,” she said. “The runes are all slightly different to what I’ve learnt.”

“The original Jotun language is the oldest known surviving dialect in the nine realms,” Grundroth said. “Ga thu vylaja ti sja gorri?”

It took a moment for Allspeak to translate the words he said into meaning in Nal’s head, but after a second it arrived, ‘do you want to know more?’

“I don’t suppose you have any scrolls on the subject?” she asked.

Grundroth shook his head. “Scrolls don’t survive the cold, our knowledge is told through our stories. I can have a historian tell you stories of our history over dinner?”

Nal pinched her lips together to avoid a smile. He was trying every possible angle to arouse her curiosity in the realm. Worse, at least some of it was working. Not enough to marry him, but still.

“And where is the entrance to the Cave?” She asked.

“Just outside, if you will follow me?” Grundroth said, holding out his arm. “I wonder why we are dancing around as we are,” he said as they started walking.

“I do not understand,” Nal said.

“You do, and that is what I mean. I intend to marry you, your Grandfather told me himself that he has no objection, in fact he wants it to seal another generation of peace,” Grundroth said.

“Peace is a choice, if you can’t maintain it without a marriage then it will not last beyond one,” Nal said.

“I do not intend to treat you badly, but you may as well resign yourself to your new life, your Grace… Nal. You will be my queen, _my_ queen, and no other,” Grundroth said. 

“I won’t agree,” Nal said.

“Just like you didn’t agree to come here in the first place?” Grundroth said in a smug tone. “I know you objected and I know King Bor overruled you. You came at his command; you will marry at his command. I suggest you get used to the idea of making Jotunheim your new home.”

Nal scowled deeply as he led her out of the Temple and around to the side. Their retinue followed them at a polite distance as they walked the short distance to the entrance to the Cave.

The entrance was about six foot high and nine feet wide at the base. The floor of the Cave sloped away from the entrance fairly steeply, and became obscured by darkness within twenty feet. Nal squinted and leaned forward trying to see more.

“I told you it wasn’t all that interesting from the outside,” Grundroth said with what Nal thought was a patronising smile. “Shall we return to the palace? I can summon a historian?”

“Can I see inside?” Nal asked.

Grundroth chuckled. “My dear, it’s a dark, cold cave filled with the frozen bodies of the dead. Why would a princess such as yourself want to go in there?”

Nal bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping back at him. Once suitably calm, she took a slow, deep breath. “If I make it to the end of the Cave, I would automatically be your heir, yes?” She asked as innocently as possible.

“That is the law, but you could never survive the harshness of the Cave, your Grace,” Grundroth said. “It takes strength and determination.”

“I’m strong and determined,” Nal said. “Stubborn too,” she added.

“Your grandfather would not allow it,” Grundroth said.

“My grandfather isn’t here,” Nal said. She looked back at the Cave again. “I’m going inside,” she said.

Grundroth blinked as though he couldn’t fathom that they were still having this conversation. “You can’t,” he said.

“Is it against tradition?” Nal asked.

“No, it’s just no woman has ever done it, much yet a princess,” Grundroth said.

“No woman until now,” Nal said. “And princesses should not be underestimated.”

“No. Your grandfather wouldn’t like it,” Grundroth said again.

Nal took a step backwards towards the Cave.

“Your Grace, please,” said the Captain of her retinue.

Nal took another step; she was right at the entrance now.

The entire group or men, Jotun and Asgardian alike froze in place as though she was a wild animal that were frightened of spooking.

 _Are you sure you know what you are doing?_ Daianya asked in Nal’s head.

 _No. But I can’t stay here,_ Nal thought. _Or at least I can’t let them push me around, I have to take a stand and this appears to be my only opportunity._

 _Be careful,_ Daianya thought.

 _Be VERY careful,_ Anima echoed.

Nal took another step, the men watching her all flinched as one. 

“Alright that’s enough,” Grundroth said suddenly, making everyone jump. “I won’t stand for this foolishness. The Cave is a killer and you are a small Jotun, you do not have the body size to even think about surviving in there more than a few dozen metres down.”

He strode across the distance and grabbed her arm. Nal glared at him. “If you’re so sure that I won’t make it then there’s no harm in letting me try,” she said. “If what you say is true I’ll be forced back by the cold long before I reach the end of the Cave.”

“There are thousands of Jotun bodies down there, all of whom didn’t realise they were dying until they were dead,” Grundroth said. “I won’t take the chance with you, unless you give me a reason to let you.”

“Reason?” Nal asked.

“If you succeed you will be my heir, and as my heir you will be able to do exactly as you like on Jotunheim, you can negotiate trade deals on behalf of your grandfather, the Jotun people will consider pleasing you to be in their best interests. But if you fail…”

“If I fail you want me to marry you,” Nal said, guessing where he was going, “Without objection or fuss.”

 _What?_ Daianya asked in her head.

 _WHAT?!!!_ Anima asked.

“I can see that we are on the same page,” Grundroth said.

“It’s hard not to be when after your little speech,” Nal said with a slight sneer.

“Do you agree?” Gundroth said. “Or do we go back to the palace right now and change for dinner?”

“I’m going in the Cave,” Nal said. 

“Then we have a deal,” Grundroth said. He took a step back and raised his voice so that the others could hear. “If you really want to then by all means, enter the Cave, but you can’t go alone. This isn’t a game, your Grace, this Cave will kill you if you aren’t careful. Laufey! Go with her.”

“What?” Nal asked.

“He’ll make it further than you, your Grace, if you refuse to turn back before you hit your limits he will be responsible for carrying you out _alive_.”

The last word was directed at Laufey, who had come running up in time to hear what his role would be. Laufey’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth as though to protest. Grundroth pulled him aside and they spoke forcefully for a few seconds, then Laufey broke away from him and walked towards the Cave.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “I’ve been down there quite far, I can guide you back out again.”

“Your Grace, no, you can’t,” said the Captain, walking over to her as though to take her arm the way Grundroth had.

“Am I the most senior ranking member of the royal family here?” Nal asked him icily.

He looked at her with a stubborn expression, but she stared him down. “Yes, your Grace.”

“Then you will wait for me here,” Nal said and turned and headed into the Cave without another word. Laufey glanced back at Grundroth, before following her into the darkness.

****

“We should have brought torches,” Laufey said as soon as they were out of sight of the entrance. “Were it not for the glowing fungus it would be pitch black already. They don’t live in the deeper part of the Cave.”

“How far did you get last time?” Nal asked.

“I have no idea,” Laufey said. “I didn’t see the end of the Cave if that’s what you’re asking. I almost froze to death too. This is madness.”

Nal took another step and felt the ground slope away further. The Cave was already colder than the surface they’d just left.

“Grundroth said you’d marry him if you failed,” Laufey said. “He said I was to make sure you didn’t get too hurt and to carry you out if you insisted on going too far.”

“That’s cheating,” Nal said, climbing down over an area of rough ground. 

“If you die then Asgard and Jotunheim will go to war all over again,” Laufey said. “So I’m not going to let that happen. I won’t carry you unless you choose not to be sensible and turn back when you reach your limit.”

“How do you know I’ll reach my limit before you do?” Nal asked him.

Laufey chuckled. “Basic biology, your Grace, you are a lot smaller than me and have less flesh to hold the heat. You will get very cold soon, long before me, I promise you.”

Nal pouted in the darkness and pushed on, aware that this was the most impulsive thing she’d ever done, and equally aware that Grundroth had goaded her into it and she’d fallen for it. Now she had no choice but to succeed.

 _I hope you know what you are doing,_ Daianya thought in her head.

 _Me too,_ Nal thought back.

****

The captain of Nal’s retinue stared after her with worried eyes. “Lieutenant, go and fetch our heavy coats,” he ordered.

“You won’t survive down there,” Grundroth said. “And if I may be so bold, I wouldn’t worry about her.”

“You said the Cave is a killer,” the captain said.

“I did, and it is, but not for her. She’s a princess, palace born and gently raised. She’ll feel a harsh chill and turn back defeated long before she reaches the deadly part of the Cave. Give her an hour, she’ll be back,” Grundroth said.

“I hope you’re right,” the captain said. “You’re not the only one who will be in trouble with King Bor if she dies.”

****

It was quiet in the Cave. For the first thirty minutes Nal and Laufey made their way down in silence. The air grew colder the deeper they went. Nal began to feel it prickle against her skin and found herself wishing for a coat. She hadn’t been wearing one. Her body had adjusted to the Jotunheim climate after only a few hours. 

Maybe the same thing will happen down here? She thought to herself as she felt her way along the wall of the Cave with one hand.

“The light’s only going to get worse from here on out,” Laufey said. “Last time I went on in total darkness for hours, until I tripped over the body of my brother.”

“How did you know it was him?” Nal asked; her teeth were starting to chatter.

“He moaned a death cry as I reached for him,” Laufey said bluntly. “I know my brother’s voice.”

“Is his body still down here?” Nal asked.

“All the bodies are,” Laufey said. “We don’t remove them. Down further there are a lot of bodies blocking the path and making things even harder for future kings.”

“If King Grundroth knows the secret to surviving the Cave, maybe he should come down here and clean it up,” Nal said.

“Do you think this is a game?” Laufey asked her suddenly, sounding annoyed. “It’s not. It’s our highest honour and you decided to come down here to what? Sightsee?”

“To be free,” Nal said quietly. “My Grandfather wants to send me here. My Father may not want it but he won’t disobey his king and instead tell me to make the best of it. King Grundroth will make any deal to keep me all for himself. The people of Asgard would rather see me gone and useful than at home where they have to look at me. The only people who care what I want don’t have the power to help me. But if I make it through the Cave then I will have the power of a crown prince. No one will force me to come here.”

“Until King Grundroth dies, then you will be our queen and have to come anyway,” Laufey said. “Although at least you won’t have to marry King Grundroth, which I suppose is a rather large bonus. But you don’t understand, your Grace, the Cave is not an easy challenge. You won’t make it by being determined – my brother was determined and he is down here still. You won’t make it by being tough either, my other brother was tough, and he made it further than me, but he never came back.”

“The stakes are my freedom. I won’t be sold to a man because he wants to play at being Asgardian for a while,” Nal said, aware that every breath she took now was chilling her lungs.

“I wish I could help you,” Laufey said. “I’m not certain I like the idea of adopting Asgardian traditions. But I can’t help you reach the end of the Cave, your Grace, you will be driven back. You never should have made that deal.”

Nal stopped moving and sat down. She could hear Laufey trying to make it to her side.

“I’ll escort you back,” he said in a gentle tone. “King Grundroth is quite old; you will outlive him by a lot and have many children of as many or as few fathers as you wish.”

“Do you hope to be included in that number?” Nal asked him.

“Every Jotun man hopes to be found worthy,” Laufey said. “If you ever do me even a little honour, I shall be grateful.”

He found her in the darkness. “Let me escort you back,” he said again. “The Convergence is in less than eighteen hours and there’re celebrations and things before that. You won’t want to miss it.”

Nal sat in the darkness and thought about it. Grundroth was older than Bor, it wouldn’t be forever and he did seem to want to be as kind as he was able.

And yet…

She slipped from Laufey’s side and fled down the tunnel, ignoring his shout of warning and surprise as she half-ran half stumbled over the uneven ground, one hand on the wall and one out in front of her, hoping to detect any low-hanging rocks before she ran into them.

Laufey went after her, but he was less reckless and less willing to risk a broken neck. Nal outpaced him, hurrying along the passageway until she suddenly felt a gap where the wall had been.

There was a small chamber to the side of the main passage. She almost ducking inside of it to hide, but Laufey was likely to find it, even in the darkness. Instead she began walking again, as quietly as she could this time. Laufey would waste time searching the side passage while she moved further on.

Nal headed downwards for another hour, ignoring the sound of Laufey trying to find her as his voice slowly faded into the distance. It grew even colder and she hunched over herself trying to preserve what warmth she still had. Finally giving in to shivers, she curled up just behind a jutting rock and tried to will herself to evolve enough to stop feeling so cold.

She stayed there for some time, long enough for Laufey to catch up to her. He was swearing under his breath and cursing stubborn princesses and their stupid fancies. She could hear by the shaking in his voice that he was also feeling the cold, although he had adjusted better than she had. He missed her, crouched behind her rock, and continued on into the darkness beyond.

Nal waited for another hour; slowly but surely, the air around her started to feel warmer. When she finally stopped shivering, she straightened up and began to make her way further into the Cave.

She was in her fifth hour down in the Cave when she heard movement. Laufey had given up and was coming back along the path, still cursing, but his voice was ragged and his breath was coming in sharp gasps. Nal was shivering again, and squashed herself into the nearest crack in the stone as she waited for him to make his way past.

“Can’t have made it this far, must have missed her,” Laufey was muttering as he stumbled past in the darkness. Nal shrank back as far as she could and held her breath as his hand found the crack and felt around inside. Thankfully he was too tall and his arm wave down over her head as she squatted low. He patted the wall outside and kept moving, heading back up toward the surface. “Knowing my luck she’s already stumbled out on her own,” he muttered.

Nal waited in the crack for a long time. She was hungry; it was long past dinner time, and she was tired from stumbling around in the Cave for hours, but the cold was receding again, and that spurred her on.

She crawled out of the crack and pushed on, heading further down into the dark and the cold. After the hours she had spent down there her eyes had adjusted to the almost non-existent light put out by the glowing fungus, allowing her to see shadows where the larger rocks were lying. But the already dim light was growing dimmer as she reached the part of the Cave too cold even for them.

Nal pressed on, ignoring the way her feet seemed to be sticking to the floor of the Cave until the sensation was absolutely undeniable.

With her next step, her leather shoes snapped apart. She stumbled and fell to her hands and knees with a cry. The leather had grown so cold it had broken under the strain of bending it even enough to walk. Her other shoe snapped apart as she climbed to her feet. The ground was freezing on her bare feet but she gritted her teeth and kept walking.

“I will not marry Grundroth. I will not marry Grundroth. I will not marry Grundroth,” she chanted under her breath to help keep her focussed. She still had a way to go yet.

Her belt broke next, falling off from around her waist and hitting the ground with the sound of something frozen hard. She didn’t bother to bend down and pick it up; she wasn’t sure she even could.

As the hours passed by, Nal pressed on.

****

Daianya woke the morning of the Convergence and tried to calm the nerves. Last night she and Anima had eaten dinner together and tried to watch a program to take their minds off the following day, but it hadn’t worked. Instead they had fallen asleep on Daianya’s bed side by side.

Anima was curled up next to her. Daianya took a moment to study her sister’s face. It was like looking into another dimension’s version of her. The same features, the same shape of her chin, but Daianya’s face in her mirror was harder and looked more mature, the result of the responsibilities she’d taken on. Anima reminded her of her younger years when she’d been far more innocent and Asgard had known peace.

She rose from her bed as she heard the sound of breakfast arriving.

“We’re in here,” she said to the servant, taking one tray and placing it on the table as the servant did the other. “Thank you.”

Anima stirred with a groan as the smell of bacon filled the room. “How’s Nal?” she asked sleepily.

Daianya felt a jolt of guilt; she’d been so busy worrying about the Convergence that she hadn’t checked on their sister, who was now twelve hours into her Cave journey, assuming nothing had gone wrong or she hadn’t turned back.

 _Nal? Are you alright?_ Daianya asked.

The answer was a sensation of deep and horrifying cold.

 _Nal?!_ Anima joined in. _Nal, talk to us!_

 _I’m fine, just… cold…_ Nal thought back.

Daianya detected the lie but didn’t think anything. She didn’t want to worry Anima.

 _Just be careful,_ she thought. _And if you need help, say something quickly. Anima will come and find you._

“What?” Anima said. “I can barely stand the surface of Jotunheim, I can’t handle the cold of that cave.”

“But you know where she is, you can teleport her out,” Daianya said. “Maybe you can set up the runes you will need now in case they are needed.”

“I can’t teleport someone across realms,” Anima said. “No one can do that. But I can get the runes ready on a canvas or something that I can quickly take to Jotunheim, assuming the Bifrost is available for me to use. Once the battle begins Nal is entirely on her own.”

 _I’m fine, still going, just taking my time and adjusting as I go,_ Nal thought.

 _I’ll get a canvas of runes ready in case you need sudden help,_ Anima thought. 

_Just tell me when the battle starts,_ Nal thought. _I hate not knowing what’s going on._

****

Down in the Cave, Nal was suffering. The ever growing cold had grown so bad that her clothing had begun to crackle as she walked. First in bits here and there, then with every step, then it had begun to break apart. The material was so cold the bonds in the thread just cracked.

She was naked now, stumbling onward with her eyes closed tightly against the freezing air. Her skin was blistered with burns and she couldn’t feel her hands or feet anymore.

She sank down on the path and curled up, trying to wait out yet another rapid evolution. Sitting still would normally kill an Asgardian, or a mortal – anyone who wasn’t Jotun really. In fact Nal wasn’t one hundred percent sure it wouldn’t kill her. It all depended on whether she stopped to adjust before the cold grew too much for her body to handle. If she got it wrong then she was dying right now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

At least I won’t marry Grundroth, she thought to herself and tried not to smile. The skin around her mouth was badly cracked, blistered and broken.

After another hour the air began to feel warmer again and Nal knew she’d judged correctly. She pulled herself up, trying not to cry out as the skin on her bottom remained, at least in part, on the floor of the Cave where it had been fused to it by the cold.

Surely she had to be close to the end by now. It couldn’t get any colder than this. Could it?


	71. The Battle Begins

It was one hour until the Convergence, and fifty minutes until Asgard’s planned attack. Daianya sat with her fellow Valkyries in the barracks, hands on her knees, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t scared.

“I’m scared,” Tarah said into the silence.

“Oh thank Yggdrasil,” Norah said, breathing out heavily. “I was afraid I was the only one.”

“I’ve been unable to sleep properly since we were made full Valkyrie,” Tiree said. “And then I got all worried about how the bad sleep might make me unfocussed and a liability, and _then_ …”

“I think it’s natural,” Daianya said. “We’ve never fought a real enemy before and there’s a good chance we won’t be doing so now. Not us. Our job is to bring air support to the other members of our squad. We won’t be fighting unless we fall from the sky or things go very badly.”

“Things won’t go badly, will they?” Norah asked.

“Every possible defence has been laid, every known eventuality has been planned for,” Daianya said. “It’s very unlikely that things will go so badly that we will find ourselves in the fight.”

Tarah shifted a little close to her as the others tried to take comfort in her words. “Are you scared anyway?” she asked quietly.

Daianya met her eyes and tried to smile, although it looked more like a grimace. “Terrified,” she admitted.

****

Anima walked down the stairs into the lower levels of the palace, past where the servants had been sequestered and into her grandmother’s rooms.

The younger trainee warriors and Valkyrie were already there, sitting in a large group across the living room floor. The room had been warmed to Asgardian comfort, and Bestla was sitting on her favourite chair a short distance away from the group.

Well, most of the group. Brunnhilde was practically climbing into her lap, eyes wide with curiosity and babbling questions at breakneck pace.

“Do your eyes glow in the dark? My cousin told me Jotnir eyes glow in the dark. Why are Jotnir so tall? Do they really eat people? Have you eaten anyone? Did they taste horrible?”

“Brunnhilde! Stop bothering the queen and come over here,” said one of the oldest trainees. She and her fellow Valkyrie were patrolling the group, keeping the children from misbehaving. The older trainee warriors were pacing around their younger set doing the same thing. Anima saw Tyr stomping back and forth, a sword on his belt, looking annoyed. She assumed that it was at being left on guard and child-watch duty instead of joining the battle, but at fifteen he was never going to be allowed to be a full warrior.

“I remember when you were older than me,” she said softly. “I thought you were so grown up.”

“How are you, my dear?” Bestla asked as Anima joined her.

“Afraid,” Anima admitted. “There are all kinds of battle mages on the balconies above, watching the fight and looking to see where they can help, and I’m… I’m here, because I’m afraid.”

“You could join them, be a healer mage. Some of our men and women will come back in need of healing,” Bestla said.

“I’ve already resolved to do so after the battle,” Anima said. “Any emergency treatment they get will be on Svartalfheim, and there won’t be time to bring them home until the battle is won anyway.”

Beslta smiled and stroked Anima’s hair gently. “Then I am glad to have your company. Perhaps it will keep me from worrying so much about my son and granddaughters who are up there.”

Anima sat down by the chair and rested her head on her grandmother’s knee. “Are you comfortable in here?” She asked. “They’ve raised the temperature.”

“I am mildly uncomfortable but had they left things as they were then all those children would be shivering right now,” Bestla said. “It would be selfish of me to insist on cold rooms at a time like this.”

_Anima?_

Anima straightened up. _Nal? What’s wrong? The battle is about to start; I can’t come and bring you out._

 _I know,_ Nal thought in her head. _I need you to speak to Grandmother for me. I need to know some things._

 _Can’t you ask her when you get back?_ Anima thought.

 _I would like to know now,_ Nal thought. 

“Nal wants to ask you something,” Anima said, turning to Bestla. “She wants to know… WHAT?!”

Her exclamation made every head in the room turn to look at her. Anima waved them away dismissively and crept closer to Bestla so that they could not be overheard even by the most noisy of watchers.

“Nal says she read Father’s life-code and that you did something. She says she’s the original child of our birth, and that Daianya and me were born of magic,” Anima said as quietly as she could.

For a moment Bestla froze in shock, but then she deflated, slouching back into her chair. “She is right,” she said, equally soft.

 _Why did she do it?_ Nal asked.

“Nal wants to know why you did it,” Anima said. “Oh, and how, but the why is more important right now.”

“I didn’t think I would be allowed to have a daughter,” Bestla said. “Please understand, my dears, I was only just an adult when I agreed to marry the King. I knew only my mother’s stories and what she had taught me. I knew nothing of Asgardian customs at all.”

“I don’t understand,” Anima said. In her head, Nal echoed the sentiment.

“Both sides agreed to bind peace with a marriage, although in Jotnir society there is no such concept. It was very important to the Asgardians though, and so when the word went out that peace could be possible if only a woman would agree to have only the children of the crown prince, I chose to bring about that peace. On Asgard, they have laws enforcing that a woman, even a married one, can refuse to bear children for her husband. He can leave the marriage if he wants to, but he cannot force her. This is a good law, but not one I understood as a girl because Jotunheim has no concept of forced breeding. On Jotunheim a man cannot force a woman to have his children not by law but purely physically, she will reject his code and refuse to use it to build a child.”

“So what does that have to do with having no daughters?” Anima asked, echoing Nal’s thought in her head.

“Unlike other Asgardian marriages, mine was bound up in a treaty. If we broke apart then our two realms would resume fighting as though peace had never existed,” Bestla said. “And so King Buri, to prevent me from marrying his son and then refusing to bear any children – thus ending the royal line – had it written into the contract that I would give Bor three sons before I was allowed to refuse to take him to my bed. I was only just an adult. I knew nothing of how Asgardian’s breed. I thought that the contract bound me to _only_ have three sons and no more. I agreed for the sake of peace, but I wanted so badly to have a daughter of my own, my weaknesses are from the attack on my mother, my code is not weak, my daughter would have been so strong, but I thought that she was to be denied to me.”

“So you did something to Father?” Anima asked. “You… broke him?”

“I built him, as all Jotun women build their children. Right from the start I made him as strong and healthy and clever as I could, given what I had promised to work with. I misjudged his height a little bit, I was trying to make him Asgardian height so that he wouldn’t tower awkwardly over his people but I accidently made him a little bit short instead. But as for everything else I made a very good man. It’s just that… inside him, when he makes his seed, the seed Asgardian men use to help create a child. If that seed has a female packet of code, then before it finishes maturing and being ready to help create a life, it purges every piece of Asgardian code and replaces it with Jotun. Only the female ones; I know Bor wanted a grandson to follow him and would be very angry if that grandson was Jotun.”

“So that’s how you knew Hela wasn’t Father’s even before you read her code,” Anima said softly. “She wasn’t Jotun, so she couldn’t be Father’s genetic child.” 

Bestla sighed heavily. “Yes, that is how I knew. I was so young when I agreed to live in another realm and abide by their rules. I didn’t even know that Asgardians breed through random chance, and I had no idea that I could have had my daughter between my sons and that she would not have been seen as a violation of the treaty and my marriage contract, only as a delay to Bor leaving my bed. By the time I realised how very wrong I was about the intention behind the clause I had already birthed your Uncles Vili and Ve, and Bor wanted nothing more to do with my bed. The only way to have had a daughter then would be to tell the secret of Jotun breeding to Asgardian ears, and that is not my decision to make on behalf of my entire people.”

Anima paused for a moment. “Nal says thank you for telling her,” she said.

“Are you angry, my dear?” Bestla asked.

“No,” Anima said. “A little bit… lost? I always thought that the three of us were something new and the original child was killed or split up or something. Now I find out that Nal is that child, and I am…”

“You are my granddaughter and Odin’s daughter,” Bestla said firmly. “Your code is identical to your mother’s, there is nothing in you that she did not possess, but you have your own soul, my dear, and we are your family.”

Anima smiled. “Doesn’t that mean my genetic father is technically pure magic?”

Bestla smiled at her. “Perhaps, but did pure magic read you stories when you were little?”

“What about Daianya?” Anima asked suddenly. “By my reckoning, I have the code of my mother, Nal has half your code and half mother’s, and Daianya?”

“Daianya has half your mother’s code, the part that doesn’t control what race you are, same as Nal, and half pure Aesir code, not Odin’s, not Bor’s. Only Yggdrasil knows how she came to be,” Bestla said. “Although it is Yggdrasil who makes the gods, so perhaps in this circumstance it is not just a saying. Yggdrasil is unlikely to ever tell us though.”

Anima giggled despite herself. “One day I will make a spell that translates Yggdrasil’s thoughts and then we can ask it,” she said.

“If Yggdrasil wanted you to know what it was thinking, I imagine it would find its own way to tell you,” Bestla replied.

****

Nal stood slumped against the wall of the Cave. She was only standing upright because the skin on her shoulder blade had fused to the frozen rock. If she wanted to get free she would have to literally tear herself away from it.

She had paused there to ask Bestla about Odin, and she had decided to ask now because she strongly suspected that ‘later’ was not going to be possible.

She was so cold. She was sleepy, and in pain, _and_ numb, which wasn’t fair because that ought to help with the pain but it didn’t. Her skin had burns on it from the frigid air and the frozen stone, and she was starting to accept that she might have been too stubborn for her own good and was going to die.

She had waited in the darkness while Anima had asked her questions for her. She wanted to tell her grandmother that it was alright, and that she understood. How could Bestla have known that Asgardian’s were so very different to Jotnir? She never had the chance to understand what a marriage was before she was in one, and did the best she could with what limited understanding she had. 

The nature of Jotun women was such that it would be completely alien to them to discover a race where children were created randomly instead of carefully crafted. Vowing to be with only one man and use only his code was _insulting_ to a Jotun woman. And King Grundroth was trying right now to force Nal into an Asgardian style marriage which was doubly insulting because he _was_ Jotun and ought to know better.

He’s goaded her into this, and she’d fallen for it. He was right that she hadn’t believed him when he said the Cave was as bad as it was. She should have. He hadn’t been lying about the deaths; down this far there were bodies everywhere. She had fallen over several of them and each time it had been harder to get back up.

She felt a little bit warmer after waiting there so long. Perhaps her body was adapting even now. Perhaps she had not miscalculated at all and was still able to live.

But if she returned without reaching the end then she would be honour-bound to get married, but if she pushed on then her luck would most definitely run out, and soon.

Choices, choices.

The battle was about to start. Malekith had no idea that Asgard had assembled against him. Nal took a slow, painful breath. No more thoughts, unless she couldn’t help it. Daianya did not deserve to be distracted on the battlefield. Nal’s thoughts might get her sister killed.

She gathered her strength and pulled away from the wall, screaming in pain as her skin tore. Her eyes stung badly but no tears fell. It was almost impossible to cry in the Asgardian summer, down in the worst cold she’d ever felt there was no chance of her tears forcing their way out of her tear-ducts.

Nal stood naked and shivering with her arms wrapped around herself. She had to decide whether to push on or go back.

There was light in the Cave ahead.

She had been in the darkness for so long that it took her a moment to realise that her eyes were indeed picking up the faintest of lights from in front of her.

She whimpered as she took a shuffling step. The skin on the soles of her feet was thin and getting thinner with each layer she left behind every time she stopped moving.

A few more steps and she reached a bend in the cave. Beyond it, in a wider area than the tunnel, there glowed the crystal of Ancient Winters. The first Jotun king had taken a piece of it back to the surface, if Grunsroth was to be believed.

Down here it did not glow as brightly as the Casket, but then the spells around the Casket were designed to amplify the power of what lay within. No doubt Anima could explain it better, Nal thought to herself.

She paused at the entrance. According to Grundroth, this was the very end of the Cave, and therefore she had done it. She had survived the Cave and was now his heir, at least, she would be if she was able to get back alive.

Nal was so tired she could already feel her knees start to sink downwards. Going back felt impossible, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep.

There were no bodies in the area with the crystal. In fact there were no loose stones, no dust, it looked almost as though the area had been cleaned.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here.”

Nal looked up at where the sound had come from, but her eyes had been staring into blackness too long and she couldn’t see more than a fuzzy shape.

“A new visitor! How delightful, I was just starting to wonder whether someone knew would come to my door, or whether I’d be forced to go and fetch my own food.”

The shape at the far end shifted as whoever it was moved around the crystal. Nal tried to move but her body was too cold to respond. 

“You’re smaller than usual, pity really, you won’t last me as long as some of the others… wait… are you a woman? Your body is shaped like a woman’s; I can hear the curve of your breasts.”

“Hear?” Nal croaked, her voice cracking in the middle of the word.

“You _are_ a woman! Oh how delightful! I’ve never had a woman come down here before, always those hulking men. Not that they’re much trouble by the time they reach _me_.”

“Who… are… you?” Nal said. Her speech was sluggish, her mouth and tongue wouldn’t respond properly.

“Me? I am the monster in the dark. I am the living cold. I am the God of Winter,” said the voice.

Nal had to work really hard at it, but she managed to say his name. “Hodr.”

****

On Asgard, the time had finally come. The army was assembled and standing in their formation, as behind them on the battlements of the palace the Valkyrie had landed their mounts.

Bor strode out from the palace, holding a hand up in a fist of impending victory. The men cheered as they saw him.

Odin followed his father, walking quickly to the front of the assembled troops. Hela was already waiting there, lounging against a wall.

Loki came jogging over from the other side of the palace as Bor began to address the troops.

“Where have you been?” Odin asked him.

“Closing a few more portals,” Loki said, sounding out of breath. “The Convergence has been causing all kind of freaky shit to happen. Barriers between realms breaking down, Yggdrasil’s known pathways shifting to new places and back again. I’ve managed to seal off all the ones that lead to Svartalfheim that I could find, but more will likely open up until the Convergence is over. We just have to hope that they don’t do so on the battlefield. I don’t care if a pathway to an empty wasteland gets opened but if any of Malekith’s soldiers fall through to an outlying village or something there’s no telling the damage they might cause.”

“We have to take the chance,” Odin said. “We need you on the battlefield.”

“Nice to be wanted,” Loki said as Bor finished his speech and turned to the Bifrost operator.

The mechanism activated and everyone became focussed. Odin called on Yggdrasil and his god power rose within him. His clothing transformed and became golden armour. A helmet appeared on his head and Mjolnir flew into his hand.

Beside him, Hela smoothed her hands back over her head and her own helmet appeared, the black claw-like tendrils putting people in mind of a reaper’s head come to claim his own. She wore no armour, but then she never needed to.

There was a shimmer of magic and Loki called his armour to him. Gone was the loose and casual shirt, the tight pants and outrageously thick belt with diamond studs. In its place was armour of clashing green and red diamond chain on his legs and arms, dark silver boots, vambraces, chest plate, and a dark silver helmet, all of which were decorated with gold etchings of the more impressive of Loki’s previous battles.

“You look like a decoration,” Odin muttered.

“Great! All eyes on me and you stab ‘em in the back,” Loki said.

Bor raised his arm and brought it swinging down to point forwards. “Attack!” he yelled, and the first wave of the Asgardian Army charge forwards.

****

Up on one of the balconies of the palace, Daianya watched as the sorcerers activated the viewing orbs. The first wave of the army were carrying much smaller orbs which they would throw into the air the moment they got the chance, then the spell on the smaller orb would send images of what was around it back to the large orbs left on Asgard.

The first images appeared and Daianya focussed on the view they showed. 

The army had come out in the middle of the field where the Dark Elves had been boarding their ships. As planned so meticulously by Odin, half the Dark Elf soldiers were already on board and would have to come running back out down the ramps, leaving them exposed and unable to spread out quickly. The first wave of Asgardian warriors immediately ran to block the closest ramps with charges which would destroy the ramps, forcing the Dark Elf soldiers to jump down and hopefully hurt themselves, making their exit even more difficult.

The rest attacked the troops already on the ground. The soldiers had not been expecting it, and even though they were armed none of them had been holding their weapons out. The element of surprise had worked in the Asgardian’s favour.

“First Flank, forwards,” General Solveig called out in a clear and commanding voice. Daianya gripped her reins a little tighter. Her squadron was a part of the First Flank, and she watched nervously as the Valkyrie she had spent the last three years training with all took flight and headed for the Bifrost.

They flew into it from three sides, each at a slightly different height so as not to collide on their way through. On Svartalfheim, Daianya watched as they poured out of the Bifrost and into the sky, before swooping down onto the enemy from above.

Some of the Dark Elf soldiers within the ships must have spotted them because the ship’s weapons were suddenly aimed upwards and began to fire.

Now Daianya knew why they had trained so hard and for so long. Once the energy weapons of the ships began to fire into the air there was nothing but chaos. The Valkyrie scattered in the air and Daianya found she was holding her breath trying to follow where everyone was at once. She was certain there was no pattern, and that all the flying they had done had fallen apart instantly, but after a few minutes of rapidly looking back and forth between Valkyrie, Daianya began to see the pattern among the chaos. She had never, in all her life, imagined that any person could be so skilled, much less twenty thousand of them.

****

Down on the battlefield, Bor knocked a Dark Elf soldier into the side of a ship hard enough to kill him, before taking note that the second wave of warriors had arrived.

He grinned, and threw his arms back, calling on his god power.

Across the battlefield, roughly one in a hundred warriors began to shiver and shake. Their expressions changed from ones of concentration to ones of pure rage. A dark red glow the colour of blood engulfed them.

King Bor of Asgard, God of Berserkers, let loose a blood-curdling scream as his power reached its height. His armour disappeared, and he stood on the battlefield in nothing but bloody streaks as he gave in to the rage.

An axe hit him hard on the back of his neck and broke. He turned, eyes burning red, and grabbed the Dark Elf soldier by the throat. In his next move he ripped the soldier’s head off.

And across the battlefield, Malekith’s soldiers fell back as the berserkers charged.

**** 

Malekith stepped out from his underground palace and surveyed the battle going on below him.

“When will the Convergence start?” He asked, not letting the sight of the surprise attack rattle his voice.

“In four more minutes the portals will begin to appear,” Algrim said. “Another seven and they will align. Let me fight, my King, please.”

“No, you stay here with my most loyal. The army only has to hold them off for eleven minutes,” Malekith said. “Send in the Kursed.”

Algrim gave the signal, and on the battlefield the soldiers chosen to become Kursed all responded. They pulled out the Kurse stones and crushed them.

Loki was slashing into a group of soldiers when one of the ones at the back of the group suddenly hunched over, shaking and shuddering not too differently from the way the berserkers had a few minutes earlier.

“Oh that’s not good,” he said, ducking a wild swing from one of the still-standing soldiers. He cut them down and held up his sword defensively as the shuddering Elf began to grow before his eyes, melding into its armour before standing up far, far taller than it had been a moment before.

Loki looked up at it with a growing expression of alarm.

“Nope,” he said and fled across the battlefield.

****

The Kursed began to gain ground against the Asgardian army. Everywhere they appeared the warriors were forced to fall back or perish. Their very touch caused instant burns through every layer of skin and down to the muscle, sometimes beyond.

Odin scanned the battlefield with a general’s eye. “Fall back away from them,” he ordered, a spell carrying his words across to every fighter, warrior and Valkyrie both. “Do not try to fight them unless you have no choice. Leave them to the berserkers.”

As if to punctuate his point, Bor slammed his fist into the chest of a Kursed, causing its ribcage to dent inwards. The Kursed responded by picking him up and throwing him into a group of Asgardian warriors. The warriors scattered quickly. Berserkers were indiscriminate once the rage took them, and part of a warrior’s training was learning how to avoid being killed by a berserker in their own ranks.

Odin threw Mjolnir at the Kursed’s head, but the Kursed, although knocked to the side, did not go down from the blow.

****

Up on the balcony, Daianya was watching intently when she saw the first of the Valkyrie fall. She gasped and gripped her reins tighter, wondering if she should say something, but Commander Gunhild had already seen it. 

“Tarah, go!” She commanded.

Tarah took flight without hesitation. Daianya swallowed hard and sent a prayer to Yggdrasil for Tarah’s safety.

The falling Valkyrie never reached the battlefield. A member of her squadron caught her and flung her high into the air. Another grabbed her before she had even reached the full height of the throw and swung her around to another, who caught her on the back of her Pegasus.

Tarah flew through the Bifrost and came out the other side high in the air. Daianya watched her closely as she navigated through the flying energy beams, ships weapon’s fire and the occasional thrown blade, to reach the two Valkyrie riding together. As she flew past, the second Valkyrie jumped onto the fresh mount and took the reins. Tarah brought her mount around and headed back to the Bifrost, which was now spilling out the third wave of warriors below.

Daianya didn’t blink until Tarah made it through, appearing back in Asgard and flying up to the balcony to land behind the other riders.

“Well done, Corra, go!” Commander Gunhild said, spotting another Valkyrie who needed a new mount.

Daianya felt her nervousness come back in full force all over again.


	72. The War is When You Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This is war, and people will die. I did warn at the start that this story was not all happy endings.

Far away from Asgard, Svartalfheim, and anything in between, Nal was struggling to stay conscious.

“I’ve been down here for a long time,” Hodr said. “Have the realms changed much? Is King Bor still on the throne of Asgard?”

“Y…yes,” Nal managed.

“Pity, the man’s a tyrant and a brute. I don’t suppose that arsehole Loki is gone by any chance?”

Nal shut her eyes. The cold was burning them.

“He’s the reason I’m down here you know,” Hodr said. “He was the one who made me do it. He talked me into killing Bauldr, I was never to blame, but King Bor is a brute and Bauldr was his favourite nephew.”

Nal wished she had the energy to tell him that she didn’t care. Unfortunately she was using all of her strength just to stay alive.

“I came down here because they couldn’t follow. The cold revives me, you know, keeps me young. Like Idunn and her apples. Is she still around, do you know? I don’t suppose you would, Jotunheim and Asgard don’t exactly get along at the best of times, a Jotun woman like you wouldn’t know much about Asgardian gossip.”

Nal was finding it hard to think, but she tried to remember what she’d heard about Hodr. It wasn’t much. Loki had mentioned him once and had called him a ‘bit of an arse’.

The description, Nal decided, was accurate.

Please at this firm and reasonable assessment of the man annoying her, her mouth curled up into a half smile.

“You sound terrible,” Hodr said in a casual tone of voice. “Have you gone cold-silly yet or are you still fighting it?”

Nal forced her face back into something more serious. “You… you’re dead,” she said.

“I assure you I am not, but if that’s how people remember me then I’ll take it. I can wait them out down here. Bor, Odin, _Loki_ , I’ll wait them all out and emerge when they’re gone. But the question of course, is what to do with you? I mean, if you die then obviously I’ll eat you, but if you manage to adapt?”

All of a sudden he was a lot closer to her, his breath would have tickled her ear had it not been so numb. “It’s been a long time since I touched a woman, well, anyone really. I think I’ll keep you,” Hodr said in her ear as he trailed his fingertips downward from Nal’s neck and over her left breast. “Don’t worry, your body will adapt – either that or you’ll die. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Nal wanted to shove him away, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. It seemed to take a monumental effort simply to remain standing.

****

Up on the surface of Jotunheim, King Grundroth was quietly panicking.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d warned her of the dangers of the Cave, publically and loudly. He’d played on her stubbornness and gotten her to agree to his deal. She was supposed to go into the Cave, realise how cold and harsh it was, and then come stumbling out after an hour, shivering and miserable, at which point he’d wrap her in furs, sooth her fears and maybe even have a heat stone fetched to help warm her back up, confident that he had secured her agreement to marry him.

She was _not_ supposed to go down there for fifteen hours, lose her escort and almost certainly die.

The worst moment so far was when Laufey had reached the surface, stumbling out covered in frost, only to look at the waiting crowd and say “She’s not here?” 

Laufey was now in the palace dungeons for his failure. How could he have left her down there?!

Grundroth had immediately sent Thrym, Groupr and a whole host of others into the Cave to find her, so far they had not returned, and the captain of her escort was demanding that he be allowed to go in and try.

“I can’t have you dying too,” Grundroth snapped. “You were there when I warned her. You were there when I told her to turn back before she was overcome! She can’t have gone far into the Cave, she’s too small to survive the true depths. If we’re lucky she’s resting in a side passage and Thrym will carry her out, cold but unharmed.”

If I’m unlucky, he thought but did not say, King Bor will rip my head clean off my shoulders.

He was so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice as the Convergence started and the portals to the other realms began to form.

****

Eitri stood by the largest window on the ring of Nidavellir and watched along with everyone else as the Convergence began. The portals began to appear at different points in the sky, becoming larger and clearer as they drifted closer together.

There was a soft murmur of awe form the crowd. It was a very impressive sight.

Eitri felt movement by his shoulder and turned to see Brokkr had arrived.

“I thought you were going to miss it,” he said.

Brokkr shrugged his shoulders. “Me too, but my work couldn’t be left. It’s done now though.”

Eitri turned back to look at the realms as the portals drifted across the sky. He squinted as he caught sight of Svartaflheim. It looked as though the darkest of all the realms was being lit up with thousands of fireworks.

“That’s unusual. I wouldn’t have thought Malekith the type to throw extravagant celebrations,” he said.

Brokkr passed him a magnifier and he looked closer.

“Those aren’t celebrations,” he said. “The Dark Elves have been invaded by Asgard.”

Brokkr made a noise of outrage. “How dare they?!” he hissed.

“We know Malekith was planning to raise a large army, brother, it may be that Asgard is defending their own,” Eitri said.

“You never stop trying to put them in a good light,” Brokkr said. “I hope Malekith wipes them all out.”

****

Down on the battlefield the Asgardian warriors were forced to fall back before the attacking Kursed. Still more were pulled into the small black hole grenades that the regular soldiers were throwing. The injuries and deaths were beginning to mount up. Daianya watched, biting her lip with worry as on the large orb nearest to her a Valkyrie was caught by a Kursed and slammed into the ground, she didn’t get back up, and the Kursed moved on.

Daianya called on her power only a little and immediately regretted it. All across the battlefield she could see the souls of the fallen rising from their bodies and flying away through Yggdrasil’s branches to the spiritual realms. The number would keep rising until the battle was over, and from the growing ferocity of the individual fights, the battle would last for a long time yet.

****

Hela laughed as she cut her own way through the battlefield. The training she had done with Loki was indeed making it easier to avoid getting inconvenienced, and she took full advantage of that fact to slice her way through a seemingly endless number of Dark Elf soldiers. She hadn’t felt this good since the final battle of the Titan War.

She encountered a Kurse, who grabbed her and tried to burn her flesh. It worked, but Hela ignored the pain and summoned a sword straight into the Kursed’s abdomen. 

It kept a hold of her and she frowned in annoyance as the burns got worse.

Then she grinned and called on her power further. A giant spike of black metal rose from the ground, impaling the Kursed and forcing it upwards to hang ten feet in the air. Its arms and legs swung back and forth as it tried to get free, but the only way to do that would be to tear its body apart.

Hela grinned and charged towards the nearest Dark Elf soldier. She loved battle; all the deaths – on both sides – were the only thing that made her feel truly alive.

****

Anima sat next to her grandmother in silence. Everyone knew the battle was going on far above, but there was no way to know what was happening down where they were, and so the time was spent talking, reading, or in Anima’s case, worrying.

Bestla sat on her chair, gently stroking Anima’s hair and watching the still water of the pool.

“I should be up there,” Tyr said, his voice breaking the silence. “I know how to fight.”

“You’re a child, we’re all children, we would only be in the way,” argued a trainee Valkyrie.

He sneered at her. “Maybe you girls are scared but I’m not,” he snapped.

“Arguments are a terribly unproductive way to spend your time,” Bestla said, her voice carrying over the crowd despite the calm and low tone. Everyone fell silent; everyone except one person.

“Yeah Tyr, shut up or she’ll eat you,” Brunnhilde said.

One of the older trainees hushed her in admonishment, but Anima saw Bestla trying not to laugh.

“She’s a little firework, that one is,” Bestla said softly. Then her face changed as she saw Anima’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,’ Anima said, looking frightened. “But Grandmother, I can sense something on Svartalfheim, something powerful, as powerful as the tesseract, and the power is building.”

“You can sense something on Svartaflheim all the way from here?” Bestla asked.

Anima nodded, her hands had begun to shake.

“Grandmother, it’s too big. It’s too much for a normal weapon.”

Bestla pulled her into a hug. “Now my dear,” she started to say.

“It’s big enough to tear Asgard apart,” Anima said. “It’s big enough to tear all the realms apart.”

****

Malekith smiled in triumph as the Aether was revealed. He still stood on the platform overlooking the battle, although the Asgardian warriors had made quite a lot of ground. The portals were almost in alignment; he could see Asgard floating high above.

“It’s almost time,” he said, “A few more minutes and the portals will be as open as they can be, a minute more than that and they shall all align. All the realms shall feel the touch of my power.”

****

The arrival of the Aether to the battlefield had not gone unnoticed by those who used magic. Odin turned his eyes to the raised area, seeing Malekith for the first time. He began heading over towards him as best he could, fighting away Elf after Elf who tried to get in his way.

Halfway across the field, Loki also turned and stared, distracted from the chaos around him by the promise of chaos coming from the large, obelisk-like structure that had been unveiled. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered as he felt the power of it. “Not again.”

His eyes tracked upwards to where the portals were forming. Unlike the Titans who had been forced to make the journey to Asgard on a ship and fire it from orbit, Malekith was very soon going to have a direct path straight into Asgard’s heart.

A group of Dark Elf soldiers took advantage of his distraction to charge him, weapons raised and ready to fire.

They vanished before they reached him, tumbling through one of the many random portals between worlds that kept opening and closing as the Convergence reached its height.

Loki began to run toward the Aether, summoning his magic to create platforms which he used to spring over the heads of the fights going on in his way. 

****

The first Anima knew of it was the sound of a scream. She looked up in panic and her eyes grew wide in shock as she saw three Dark Elf soldiers at the far end of the room. The scream had come from one of the youngest trainee warriors, and it pierced the room with a terrified note.

****

Daianya yelped and let out a cry. “There’re soldiers in the Queen’s rooms!” She screamed. “They came out of nowhere and they’re with the trainees!”

Commander Gunhild knew better than to argue.

“Squad Seven, get down there!” she commanded.

Daianya desperately wanted to go with them, she could feel Anima’s panic in her mind, it was almost blinding, but she forced herself not to break ranks. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered, “Hurry.”

****

Tyr didn’t hesitate. He ran forwards, sword out and ready, yelling in defiance as he charged the Dark Elf soldiers who were looking around themselves in what appeared to be confusion.

One of them raised his weapon and fired at the approaching Tyr, who dodged it with a laugh of derision.

Instead it flew past him and hit the middle of where three young trainees sat together, throwing them backwards and burning their faces.

“Get the children out of here!” Bestla cried as Tyr reached the soldiers.

One of them ducked under his sword swing and punched him in the chest. Tyr flew backwards and landed on top of the trainees as they scrambled to get away. His sword fell from his hand and clattered against the stones.

Brunnhilde picked it up and held it out in front of her awkwardly. Her legs were trembling and she was hyperventilating with fear.

“Keep going, I’ll hold them off!” she shouted in a high pitched voice, with tears in her eyes. But despite her fear she didn’t move, not even as they aimed right at her.

The soldiers fired again, the blast aimed straight for her head, only to hit a wall of ice as it shot up from the ground.

“Keep going!” Bestla commanded. Her wall shattered under the next blast, but she threw up another one, and another one. They fell quickly; her ice powers were as weak as she was, but she didn’t stop, not even as her breath grew ragged and her face showed strain. Wall after wall came up and fell down as the trainees scrambled to get away.

Anima’s mind had gone blank with fear. She’d felt the same way when Senan had been under attack all those years ago. She desperately tried to remember a spell – any spell – that could help.

The next blast broke Bestla’s latest wall, and the one after that hit Bestla.

It slammed into her chest in a shock of heat and force, throwing her backwards and into the pool, sending water splashing upward in all directions.

Anima screamed, drawing the soldiers’ attention.

****

In the Cave of Kings, Nal let out a cry of grief and pain, and fell to her hands and knees.

“Oh, you are dying. Pity, I really thought you were adapting fast enough. Oh well, do Jotun women taste any better than Jotun men do you think?” Hodr said above her.

****

Daianya screamed and clenched her fists. All she could feel in that moment was fury. They’d killed her grandmother. They’d _killed_ her grandmother. They _**killed**_ a woman who had given up everything she’d ever known because peace was more important than war, a woman who had only tried to protect _children_ , a woman Daianya loved dearly, and was the only mother figure she’d ever known.

The other Valkyrie all backed away from her but Daianya didn’t even notice as the red glow of berserker rage began to cover her skin.

The Pegasus beneath her squealed in fear and took to the air, but Daianya didn’t care. All she could see was the enemy. All that mattered was the red rage that filled her mind.

She leapt from the frightened Pegasus’ back and launched herself straight into the Bifrost. She appeared on the other side a few seconds later and charged bare-handed into the nearest crowd of Dark Elf soldiers.

The first one tried to fight, but Daianya ripped his arm clean out if its socket. The next one she punched in the chest hard enough to shove its heart out through its spine.

“Mora, Iduna, shadow her!” Gunhild said. “Berserker rage fuelled by grief is not sustainable, if it fades on the battlefield she’ll be alone and vulnerable to every counter attack.”

“Grief?” Tarah asked, looking concerned.

Gunhild nodded curtly, her face a mask of stone. “That’s grief, girl. The Princess’ sister was down there, and so was her grandmother. We’ll find out which one it is – or if it was both – when this is all over.”

“My sister’s down there,’ Tarah whispered, her face going pale.

“When it’s over,” Gunhild repeated, and Tarah stayed in her place.

Two Valkyrie from the waiting third flank took flight and entered the Bifrost. They stayed in the air, avoiding energy fire and watching as Daianya tore her way through the elves unlucky enough to get in her way.

She barrelled through a large crowd of Asgardian warriors who were fleeing the other way. The reason for their retreat was one of the Kursed, who charged directly towards her.

Asgardian Berserker met Dark Elf Kursed head on. The Kursed went to grapple her as she came into range, and Daianya responded by leaping up until her legs were around its neck. She grabbed its head with both hands and pulled as it grabbed her waist and tried to crush her.

Warriors and soldiers alike paused in their various fights and flights to watch the two of them. Both berserker rage and Kursed magic supposedly made the individual invulnerable to any form of attack while they lasted, and neither side knew what that meant should the two encounter one another.

A line of red began to form around the Kursed’s neck as Daianya pulled upwards. Its skin was tearing apart. Little by little, fighting the power of the Kurse stone which kept trying to pull the Kursed back together, Daianya pulled its head upwards. The Kursed bellowed with rage and began to slam its fists down against her sides, but Daianya didn’t even notice, her rage was too deep.

With a final cry of outrage, Daianya pulled the head of the Kursed from its body. Its spine came out of the neck behind it like a bloody tail. Daianya hurled the head away as the body fell beneath her. She rose, not hearing the cheers of the warriors from behind her as she charged further into the battle.

The head, when it landed, rolled awkwardly across the ground. The Kursed’s face was still making screaming motions, but without its lungs it couldn’t make a sound. It lay there screaming silently, locked inside the disembodied head, unable to die until the Kurse stone’s power ran out. 

****

The first Dark Elf soldier to fall did so to a trainee warrior’s sword. He had snuck around behind them as they had been firing on Bestla’s walls and he ran it through even as they took aim at Anima’s head.

The other two turned to engage him in battle and he began blocking as best he could, keeping them close so as to make it hard for them to use their energy weapons.

A moment later the squad of Valkyrie arrived and cut them down where they stood.

“Where did they come from?” the squad leader shouted.

A trainee pointed at the wall. “They just came out at a run,” she said.

The squad checked the wall but the portal had already shifted.

The trainees evacuated up the corridor, the squad returned to the balcony above, only Anima remained to walk, sobbing with grief, to the side of the pool where the body of Bestla now lay.

She reached out with a hand that shook and tried to summon enough magic to lift Bestla from the water, but she couldn’t think through her grief.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

But whether it was for not being able to lift her or not being able to help against the soldiers who killed her, Anima didn’t know.

****

In the darkness of the Cave, Nal knelt frozen to the ground. Her skin was burning from the cold, her heart was a lead weight in her chest, and her eyes were stinging more and more painfully from the pressure building up behind them, until at last with a blinding sting the pressure eased, and she heard four faint ‘plinks’ echo from below her. They were her tears hitting the ground.

To cry is to bleed.

Bestla was worth bleeding for.

Nal kept her eyes shut tightly afterwards. She wasn’t entirely certain that she could open them anyway. The damage done by the tears on their way out had torn her tear ducts and the flesh around them.

 _Anima?_ she thought. _Anima, are you there?_

__

__

_I didn’t… I couldn’t… I’m sorry…_

Anima’s thoughts echoed in Nal mind. Her sister was alone now, everyone had gone to deal with more important matters than a battlefield death, no matter whose death that was. Unfortunately, Nal was forced to agree with them.

 _Anima, I heard your thoughts before. Something powerful is building on Svartalfheim. Is it a weapon? Can Father stop it?_ She thought.

_I don’t know. I’m sorry, Nal, I froze, I froze..._

__

__

_I know, it’s alright,_ Nal thought.

_No it’s not. Tyr didn’t freeze, little Brunnhilde didn’t freeze._

__

__

_Never mind that, the power, the weapon, that’s all that matters right now._

As soon as Nal thought that she knew she’d thought the wrong thing. She felt Anima curl further into herself and her grief. But now wasn’t the time, the whole of Asgard was at stake. Nal fought the urge to yell at Anima to pull herself together. It was hard. Nal was not the most patient person at the best of times, and right now she was in pain, grieving, and struggling to concentrate as Hodr kept chattering away above her, but she pushed all of it aside for the greater truth. Asgard was in danger. Anima was their only chance.

Nal wracked her brains trying to find the right words to motivate her sister. Anima was not a warrior at heart the way Daianya was. If you hit Daianya she would rise up and hit you back, not unlike Born and even Odin, but Anima crumpled when she was hit. She panicked under pressure and she preferred running to fighting. 

Nal took a slow breath inwards and tried to calm her own mind. What else did she know about her sister?

Anima was friendly, cheerful and helpful. She studied magic for its own sake, and thought learning new things was just about the most wonderful thing you could do with your spare time. She also had a protective streak bigger than Asgard was wide.

Nal almost mentioned the children then, but Bestla had died for the children and she was afraid that Anima would crumple further under the reminder.

 _You have to stop Malekith from using that weapon. You’re the only one who can,_ she thought instead.

 _I can’t. I’m not strong enough,_ Anima thought.

 _Midgard,_ Nal thought suddenly.

 _What?_ Anima thought back.

_Anima, listen. Right now Father has an army more than capable of defeating Malekith’s soldiers. They’re fine, they will survive, and if this power build up you can feel is a weapon that destroys Asgard, well, that’s just Ragnarok come early. There’re enough Asgardian men and women on Svartalfheim right now that the King will lead them to a new world and they’ll survive. But **Midgard won’t**. It’s been so beaten down by the Titans that it’ll take thousands of years for it to stand up for itself again. If Malekith attacks now then Midgard is finished. And right now no one cares about it, no one but you. No one will protect it, no one will come. They’re your people, Anima, maybe you aren’t a god, but I know damn well you are a mortal, and that’s not a little thing to be. It never was. Midgard’s protectors were always their sorcerers. You are the only one they have left to keep them safe._

**** 

Anima stared into the pool at Bestla’s face. Her grandmother’s eyes were still open, staring blankly up through the water as it slowly clouded red with her blood. Slowly, Anima’s breathing calmed and her tears stopped falling.

"Grandmother protected her whole realm by getting married and never going home again,” Anima said softly. “She sacrificed every year of her life after that to someone else’s will, just so that her realm could live in peace. All I have to do to protect mine is stop a weapon from firing.”

 _That’s right,_ Nal thought in her head.

Anima took a deep, shuddering breath, then she turned and ran out of Bestla’s rooms and up the stairs beyond.


	73. Anima, Protector of Midgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you all once before that the last part of this story would consist of the final chapter, an epilogue and a notes page. This is coming up very soon so this it another warning so you don't get disappointed that the last chapter has no story in it. I will probably post them all up at the same time.

Malekith looked up and smiled as the portals began to overlap; it was finally time. He turned and walked back to the Aether, swirling in the container the scientists had built for it. He reached out a hand and it responded, reaching out to him with one liquid-like strand. They made contact, and Malekith gasped as the power flowed into his body. The helmet on his head started glowing as it fought to keep the Aether from overwhelming his body. 

He raised his arms above his head and surrendered to the feeling of power as it flowed through his body. The Aether was more than he had realised, even with Algrim’s warnings. It was _everything_ it was destruction on an unprecedented scale. With the power of the Aether flowing through him, Malekith could plunge all the nine realms into darkness, he could plunge the _universe_ into darkness.

But first, there was one thing he had to take care of; something… personal.

As the power of the Aether swirled around him, creating wild winds and throwing everything in its path aside like the rubbish it was, he reached out with his newfound power and pointed at one of the Asgardian transmission orbs in the sky. It flickered and reversed its function. Instead of sending images of the battle to the receiving orb on Asgard, now the receiving orb was sending images of Asgard to Svartaflheim.

Another thought and the orb grew in size, larger and larger until it filled half the sky. Malekith wanted King Bor to really see the destruction of Asgard in as much detail as possible. He wanted the arrogant, stupid bully to watch as his realm crumbled into dust.

Malekith brought the orb lower and magnified the image it shoed until he could see the palace balconies well enough to make out the faces of the people watching. He could see their fear and it made him smile. 

The change in the sky gradually caught the attention of those below. Some of the fighting stopped altogether as Asgardian warrior and Dark Elf soldier alike wondered what was going on. Others were too invested in their own individual battles to break apart, but as those battles were won the victors also found themselves looking upwards.

Hela had climbed up onto the side of one of the large Dark Elf Arcs and was using her power to impale the Kursed across the battlefield. Twenty seven of them now hung from fifteen foot spikes she had summoned from beneath their feet. She took advantage of the lull to find and impale a few more. It annoyed her that they didn’t die, but Father would be proud of her for stopping them from killing the warriors. At last the image in the sky caught her attention and she looked from it to where Malekith stood surrounded by swirling red winds with a thoughtful expression.

Odin ran towards the platform where Malekith stood. The winds pulled at him, getting under his feet and tripping him up. He staggered upright again and forced his way forwards, step by slow step. Just as he felt the winds start to win against him he felt a sudden easing, and half turned to see Loki behind him, pushing at the winds with a shield of magic. It was curved to allow the winds to travel around him rather than try to stop them entirely.

“Keep going!” Loki yelled through the storm.

On the battlefield, the sight of Asgard’s palace showed so close trickled through the rage of his power and into Bor’s mind. He lost his red berserker glow and his armour reappeared as his god-power faded. He looked from above him to where Malekith was now obscured by the violent winds and raised Gungnir, fear growing in his eyes.

Across the battlefield, the other berserkers lost their protection as their own rages faded. Some, like Daianya who was still fuelled by her own grief, managed to maintain it, but for most the giant orb was too much of a distraction.

On Asgard, Gunhild saw what was happening on Svartaflheim and turned to face the Valkyrie still on the balconies of the palace.

“Third Flank, Air Support, Ground Support, EVERYONE. Into the Bifrost, NOW!” She yelled and took to the air.

The ground support swung up onto free pegasi or onto the backs of those already mounted and the last of the Valkyrie took to the air and streamed into the Bifrost as fast as they could. Tarah turned to look back at the palace as she rode, but obeyed her commander even as she fought the tears in her eyes.

They reappeared over the battlefield in a steady stream, trying to get through before whatever was coming destroyed the Bifrost and stranded them either on Asgard or in the space between realms. 

Anima stumbled out of the door and onto one of the balconies. Her heart was pounding and her lungs burning from her mad run, and she fell to her knees and sucked in gasps of air, even as she looked up at one of the remaining receiving orbs to see what was happening on Svartaflheim.

She didn’t really need to see it; she could feel it.

“Stone,” she gasped to herself, “Stone.”

It had to be the Reality Stone. It felt as strong as the tesseract, but as wild as an untamed Pegasus. Wilder.

How Malekith got it was a mystery, but right now she didn’t care, the only thing that mattered was stopping him from using it. The Titans had used the Space Stone to try and destroy Asgard and her mother had died to save it at the age of twenty three. Now Malekith was going to use the Reality Stone and Anima was the only one with the skill to stop him.

“Well, I made it to thirty five, that’s better than Mother,” she said to herself. She’d always held herself back for fear of burning up, but now, still shaking, still scared, she let herself go and chased the feeling inside of her that called her towards magic.

“For Midgard,” she whispered, shutting her eyes and thinking of Senan. “See you in another life.”

****

Every Asgardian close to the platform where Malekith stood charged him at once, but it was useless. Hela’s knives turned into sparkling lights. Loki’s spells shattered and threw him backwards across the battlefield. Odin felt the ground shift beneath his feet and throw him off balance. Bor’s blast from Gungnir bent around Malekith and struck General Hymir and his group of Asgardian warriors charging Malekith from behind. General Solveig and her team of Valkyries were tossed in the wind and sent scattering when they tried to swoop him from above.

Malekith held his arms up and gave a shout of glory as a blast so powerful that everyone across the battlefield was thrown off their feet shot up through the air and into the portal above. He watched with his head back and his eyes wide in delight as, on the orb above, Asgard was obscured by the dark red and black smoke of total destruction. 

Odin cried out in shock as he saw the blast rise.

Bor roared helplessly at the same sight.

Loki’s face became one of genuine horror.

Hela’s eyes lit up at the thought of so much death.

On the far side of the battlefield, Daianya’s rage faded instantly at the horror of what she was witnessing sank in past her grief, and she was left standing on the battlefield without a weapon and barely any armour.

The blast hit with a force so powerful that the sound turned physical. The red light obscured the sky, blinding those who didn’t look away and making it impossible to see what was happening to Asgard beneath it. A scream echoed out, loud enough to make warriors cover their ears and Elves to drop their weapons at the sound.

On the side of the battlefield, clambering up from the side of an Arc which he’d been thrown into, Loki tilted his head to the side in confusion. It didn’t sound like a scream of pain to him, nor rage. It sounded more like… effort?

Malekith started to laugh. He’d done it. He’d destroyed Asgard. _Asgard._ The great home of the gods. It was nothing now, nothing but fragments and dust. The power continued to flow from him upwards into the sky. It was done, and the other realms were next.

On the battlefield, Mjolnir slowly dropped toward the ground as Odin’s grip weakened. Bor’s mouth was open in slack-jawed shock.

Then the power of the blast began to narrow, and Malekith stopped laughing.

Odin stared up at the sight in disbelief. In his own God form he was connected strongly to Yggdrasil, and so he _knew_ that the weapon’s power had not been channelled down its branches, not this time. Asgard should have taken the full blast of the power; it should be rubble and dust.

And yet there it was, becoming more and more visible as the red streams of magic spun around in a tighter and tighter stream, centred around the balcony where Anima had been kneeling only a moment before, slowly shrinking down further and further, revealing Asgard to be untouched and whole.

A phrase came into his mind: _holding pattern_.

Anima hadn’t absorbed the power, she was spinning it around herself in a continuous loop, preventing it from entering the atmosphere all at once where it would overwhelm the area and cause untold destruction. 

On the balcony, at the centre of a whirling storm of red light that was twisting and narrowing into an ever thinner and thinner band, a billion tiny, ever changing, ever appearing and disappearing wisps of magic flickered and glowed in a way that hinted quite strongly at the shape of a woman in their centre.

The Goddess of Magic’s true form was magic itself.

The battlefield was silent. No one had anticipated this. No one knew what to do, or how to react.

That is until a distant figure threw up both arms and screamed in delight.

“YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!” Loki of Utgard screamed, both fists in the air, before turning to point dramatically with both hands and hollering at a figure halfway across the battlefield. “YOU OWE ME A CASTLE!”

The sound broke the spell, and the two armies turned back towards one another.

Daianya looked up into the masked faces of over a dozen Dark Elf soldiers. They had noticed the calming of her rage and had turned back from retreating with their weapons drawn. Her Valkyrie uniform was in shreds, slashes and burns from weapons that had hit, but not harmed, her were all over it. Her left sleeve was falling off her arm. 

Daianya tapped the pendant at her neck, held there by a solid gold choker Anima had helpfully picked out for her the day before. Her battle armour appeared on her body and her swords by her side. She drew one of them with her right hand and held it out in front of her defensively.

Before they could attack, she sensed a dozen Asgardian warriors approach from behind her coming to her aid. One of them – a man two heads taller than she was and three times as wide – came to stand at her shoulder, and handed her a shield with a nod, then, as a group, the Asgardian cohort let out a yell and charged the elves, swords raised in the air.

Bor shook himself out of his shock and began firing at the nearest elf again, trying to reach the platform where Malekith stood. 

Malekith didn’t notice. He was dealing with a problem of his own. The Aether was still pouring out of him, but he wasn’t controlling it. It was being _pulled_ out of him, up into the sky and across the distance between realms. He fought to keep it, but the Goddess on the other end had no time for his feeble efforts.

The last of the Aether was sucked out of him, making him fall to his knees. He watched on the orb above as the last tendril of power joined the swirling band around the woman at its centre.

On the balcony, Anima opened her eyes. 

As disturbing as it was to see the lights, and whirls, and twists of magic that now made up her whole body shifting rapidly between the visible and invisible, somehow, amongst all that, there was nothing more unnerving to Malekith than the sight of her very plain, very mortal, and very _angry_ eyes visible at the centre of the storm.

Anima was not a warrior. She would run rather than fight, she would crumble when hit, and her happy nature made her slow to get angry.

But when she did, she had the fierceness of a mortal, something the other races of the nine realms had never bothered to understand.

The container the scientists had built to hold the Aether vanished from beside Malekith in a flash of blue light and reappeared at Anima’s side on the balcony in Agsard. The stream of swirling red that was the Aether began to fill it as Anima set it aside. She didn’t need it; it would only get in her way.

The lights moved in a way they suggested her hands were pushing down, and Anima began to rise. She flew straight up toward the portal, as the once perfect alignment now drifted apart again. When she reached the point where Asgard met Svartalfheim, she flipped in the air as easily as a dancer and began to descend above the battlefield as behind her the portals started to close. Her eyes, filled with rage and the promise of retribution, locked onto where Malekith knelt.

“My King! Orders!” Screamed Algrim.

Malekith shook himself out of his shock and turned away. “The Arcs above the battlefield, order them to cut their engines,” he said. “Kill everyone on the field below.”

He ran into the Arc which had been reserved for him, followed by Algrim who was screaming into his communicator. “Do it! Do it for your king!” he ordered brusquely. A moment later the Arc took to the sky, cloaking itself as it left for a destination unknown.

One by one the other Arcs cut their engines and began to fall towards the ground. As they hit the fuel inside exploded, crushing and burning anyone who was unfortunate enough to be beneath them.

Her attention diverted, Anima stopped her descent and began to move her arms about. Asgardian warriors began to vanish from the battleground and reappear back in the barracks, in their homes, and on the balconies and streets of the main city in Asgard.

With the portals closing and the convergence over, Anima now teleported people directly from one realm to another as easily as most sorcerers teleported across a city. It was all numbers, after all, the right numbers led to the right destination, and the power she channelled to create those numbers was no longer an issue. She knew where her limits lay, and it was somewhere far beyond the reach of any other spell caster from any other realm. She was born of magic gifted by Yggdrasil, and to her it had granted dominion over it all.

Loki created a platform of magic and used it to spring upwards. In mid-air he crossed his outstretched legs and folded his arms behind his back. A moment later he was teleported onto the couch in his rooms, perfectly placed to recline against the cushions.

Odin vanished mid-swing and found himself on the balcony so recently vacated by Anima. He was joined a second later by Bor, and then Daianya.

Hela was laughing as the ships crashed down around her. Everyone was dying. The feeling of all their lives snuffing out was filling her with ecstasy. But then she too vanished and reappeared on the balcony beside her family. She let out a noise of frustration and stormed off, furious at having her enjoyment interrupted.

Every still living Asgardian was transported back to Asgard. The injured found themselves in the healer’s rooms where the more serious injuries began to rapidly stitch themselves back together in front of the healer’s wide eyes and shocked faces.

With the battlefield empty of Asgardian warriors, Anima teleported herself back to the balcony, where her goddess form faded leaving behind her usual, mortal self.

“It was so fast; I couldn’t save her,” she gasped and fell into her father’s arms.

Odin wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly. “You saved everyone,” he said. “Anima what you did, that was amazing.” 

“You did brilliantly,” Bor said from behind her. “You saved Asgard. You… you channelled Yggdrasil… as a Mortal! My girl, what you did was extraordinary.”

Anima buried her face deeper into her father’s chest and clung to his armour tightly. “I didn’t save everyone,” she confessed with her head bowed. “And I don’t feel extraordinary.”

Odin looked up in confusion and saw Daianaya’s face.

“Who?” he asked her with growing dread, a part of him already knowing the answer.

“What?” Bor asked, looking back and forth between them.

Daianya took a deep breath and turned to face the King. “Your Majesty,” she said in a voice that was almost calm. “I regret to inform you that the Queen is dead.”


	74. The Call of the Cold

So Anima was a goddess after all, thought Nal to herself alone in the cavern. A Mortal goddess. Who would have thought it possible?

Other than Loki, but Loki always knew more than he let on. He’d claimed Nal was a goddess too, which seemed even more unlikely, especially now.

Whenever Daianya called upon Yggdrasil Nal always felt closed off from her sister, as though she was peeking through a keyhole into a room she knew existed but could not access. By contrast, Anima had felt like a comment blazing across the sky: showy, impressive, but far out of Nal’s reach.

_“To call upon Yggdrasil,” the sisters’ teacher had told them so long ago, “You have to reach for a feeling inside yourself; something that calls to you like an old friend.”_

_“Are you a god?” Nal had asked her, with a tilt of her childish head._

_“No. Gods are rare, even among Asgardians,” the teacher had said. “But the feeling has been documented by those who have felt it.”_

_“All I feel when I look inside is cold,” Nal had said._

_“That’s because you are Jotun, your Grace. Jotun cannot be gods, and I imagine they all feel that way.”_

Nal jolted back to the here and now. Her mind had been drifting off to the past over and over as she struggled against the cold that surrounded her.

“If you manage to adjust enough to live, I think I shall keep you,” Hodr said. “I only ever get to talk to people when someone makes it as far as this cavern. More often than not they die out there before getting this far. Occasionally a few clever ones make it down quite far but then turn back before they succumb. I’ve heard them out there, summoning weapons with frightening speed and then just turning around and going back. You’d think if they made it that far they’d at least try to fight me, but no, I remain all alone.”

Had Nal not already been frozen in place, she would have stilled in realisation at his words. 

The increase in ice-shaping skill was not granted by the crystal, it wasn’t even alive. Nor was it granted by Hodr, because why would he do that even if was within his capabilities? No, it was granted by the cold itself. Get cold enough and the Jotun body would adapt, and as a side effect it would learn to form ice as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

That. Fucking. Bastard. Grundroth had told her the story of the crystal in the cave, and when she’d asked him if it were true he’d _hesitated_. He claimed the answer was a secret but that was because he didn’t actually know. 

He probably just tried to form ice the whole way down and turned back as soon as he got cold enough to achieve it to a kingly standard. All the kings probably did. The secret to being the King of Jotunheim was to be patient enough to wait out the cold and clever enough to know when to quit.

Unfortunately, Nal reflected, that mean she wasn’t kingly material, because she’d stubbornly walked all the way into the lair of a monster rather than get married.

Still worth it.

“I wonder how long it’ll take you to heal enough to be bedded?” Hodr said directly into her ear, running his fingers down the length of her spine. “I don’t like the idea of touching sores and I can hear the state of your skin right now and it’s been very badly burnt by the cold.”

He’d said ‘hear’ again – but of course he had, Nal thought, Hodr was _blind_. He’d been known for it. The Blind God of Winter. He navigated by the echoes in the cave.

I wish I could, Nal thought to herself, although she was able to track him fairly well as he paced the cavern, far better than she would have guessed she’d been able to, had the topic ever come up. 

I guess God of Winter is off the table for me, Nal thought suddenly, remembering with amusement brought on by the cold what Loki had said about new gods replacing old ones if they died. If Hodr’s alive then there is no opening to fill after all.

She took a slow breath and tried to think. It was getting easier. She must be adapting after all, although her progress was agonisingly slow.

“I never used to attract many women,” Hodr said wistfully from over to her left; he was pacing again. “Bauldr was too attractive, or so they said, and Loki was too charming and snapped up the rest. It’ll be nice to have someone all for me.”

He sounded like one of those True Men’s Alliance idiots, Nal thought, fighting grief and fear in equal measure. So much had happened in the last day it was hard to cope, she hadn’t slept so much as a minute in the last twenty three hours, her Grandmother was dead, Anima was a goddess, the Dark Elves were destroyed, and _Hodr was still talking._

Surrounded by the sound of his grating voice, Nal realised that she wasn’t just tracking his approximate location anymore, she could actually see where he was, or rather, she could _hear_ where he was.

Her body was continually adapting to the environment around her. In the total darkness of the last twelve hours and now with the damage caused by her tears her eyes had become useless, and so her brain had been rapidly rewiring itself to listen to her ears instead for the sounds that he made, and her nose for his scent, and her skin for the feel of the air shifting as he moved, and present its findings in a way that she could readily understand. Hodr began to appear like shifting red lines in her non-vision. His form was like an ever sharpening cloud of squiggles in the blackness behind her eyelids.

Were anyone able to see through the dim lighting of the cavern, then they would have observed Nal’s head rise up and turn until she was glaring directly at Hodr’s back.

It was not grief, or fear, that fuelled her now, it was anger. How _dare_ he prattle away when Bestla was dead? How _DARE_ he speak of keeping her confined and helpless? Did he not know who he was dealing with? She was a Jotun woman. She was born to be a queen, not of a realm, but of an empire of her own making.

They called her cold? She’d show them cold.

For the first time in her life Nal responded to the call of the cold inside of her, reaching out for it with open arms.

Just for a moment, she thought she could smell the scent of apple blossom.

Nal rose up silently onto her feet, and the already deadly temperature in the cave began to plummet. Hodr’s image was growing sharper with every passing second as her brain took all the information she had and turned it into something she could use.

“Of course, in time I hope you will come to enjoy my company, but I’m not stupid, I know you will always claim to hate me even if you come to think of me fondly. It’s the nature of Jotun women to be stubborn,” Hodr said, turning around to face her again. 

He stopped and frowned, as the faint echoes of his words came back to him far sooner than they should have.

Were Hodr able to see then he would, no doubt, have felt fear strike into his very core. Nal was only inches away from him, silently staring into his blind eyes with pure, unadulterated, hatred. 

Hodr began to shiver as the temperature in the cave passed even his own impressive limits. 

“What is happening?” he asked as his teeth began to chatter. “Is it the crystal? It’s never done this before!”

His next breath caused him to start coughing as the air grew so cold his lungs began to freeze.

Nal’s lips parted, revealing only to the darkness a mouth filled with very thin, narrow, razer-sharp teeth, grown from a sudden need to bite through things frozen colder than ice. She didn’t care about his fear, or his boasting. She didn’t care about how or why he came to be in the cavern and how long ago he had fled there. There was only one thing she knew with absolute certainty.

“I’m going to eat you,” she said with a hiss.

Hodr cried out in alarm as he realised how close she was. He jerked backwards away from the sound of her voice…

…and his shins snapped in half, frozen solid by the cold. His back hit the rocky floor behind him and his arms broke at the elbows and shattered into pieces as they hit the ground. He gasped and coughed desperately as his body froze, confusion still showing on his face, until finally his breathing became little shallow gasps, which then slowed to a halt as he froze completely.

Nal reached down and picked up a piece of his shattered arm. With great care and delicacy she took a single bite and crunched it up between her teeth.

Asgardian strength, cold manipulation, _excellent_ hearing. All useful code to know.

Nal dropped the remainder of the arm, turned, and walked away from him back towards the entrance to the cavern. She stopped only to pick up her tears from the ground. 

“There is no one colder than me,” she said over her shoulder to the corpse of Hodr as she left the cavern and headed back up to find the passage to the surface, leaving the God of Winter and Darkness to his frozen tomb.

****

Daianya reached down and pulled away the sheet of thick metal that used to be a piece of a Dark Elf Arc. Beneath it laid the body of another warrior. She steeled herself and pulled him free, dragging him over to her Pegasus and lifting him bodily across the back of the saddle.

Tarah joined her a moment later, dragging the bod of another warrior who, they hoped, was feasting in Valhalla.

“How many are there?” Tarah asked. She looked exhausted; the Valkyrie had assembled in the hour following the battle and returned to Svartaflheim to do the last of their battle duties. They had been working for more than six hours and were all feeling weary.

“I’m not sure,” Daianya said. “Only General Solveig knows.”

The General was flying across the battlefield with a scanner in hand, locating any remains that registered as Asgardian.

They flew back to the Bifrost landing site and unloaded the bodies beside the rest. They would be returned once they had all been found.

“Daianya, Tarah, three more over there! By that large spike,” General Solveig called from above.

They flew over to it and began searching. Far above on the spike, the Kursed roared at them and tried to get free, but Hela had made them with barbs and the unfortunate Elf was stuck tight.

The two women ignored him. He was mad with the power of the Kurse Stone anyway. If there was a way to end his miserable existence they would have taken it, but instead they just had to wait for the Kurse to consume him.

Daianya pulled away a large piece of metal and stopped, looking down at what was underneath. A second later Tarah joined her.

“Did you know her?” Tarah asked.

Daianya shook her head. “Must have been in a different squadron,” she said.

“If you can lift the Pegasus body, I’ll pull her out,” Tarah said.

Daianya nodded and threw the metal away so that she could climb down to grab hold of the Pegasus.

“The end of the battle was so chaotic,’ Tarah said softly.

“The entire battle was so chaotic,” Daianya said.

“I’m glad you made it through,” Tarah said.

Daianya found a smile from somewhere. “I’m glad you did too.”

****

Anima sat on the big ornate chair in Bor’s office and watched as he struggled with the pen in his hand. He seemed to be having trouble deciding what to write. At last, after the last word he looked up at her.

“I want you to study the Aether, find out how to destroy it,” he said.

Anima shook her head gently. “It cannot be destroyed, at least, not by me.”

“You’re the Goddess of Magic,” Bor argued.

“And the Aether is the Reality Stone. Even I don’t have the power to destroy it something that continually generates power. Nothing does, other than maybe another Stone and even then I’m not certain. I will study it and find out the best way to keep its power from spilling out, if you want me to, your Majesty,” Anima said.

Bor sighed. “Do it then. But if you can’t destroy it I want it buried deep, so deep no one will ever find it. The Aether isn’t like the tesseract, its power is too random, too untameable. I want it gone from Asgard, but I’ll be damned if I send it anywhere that isn’t secure.” 

“I’ll find a way to keep it hidden,” Anima said.

“We shall have to hold you a God’s Feast too,” Bor said, “After we have said our farewells to Bestla.”

“If that is all, your Majesty,” Anima said, bowing her head as she went to rise.

“Call me Grandfather,” Bor said. “And there is one more thing. How did Bestla die? What happened down there?”

Anima turned her head away, her lip started to tremble. “Please don’t make me recall it,” she whispered.

“I’m writing to Broeng, to tell her that her sister was killed. She will want to know how it happened.”

Anima looked back up at him, surprised to see the faint sheen of tears in his eyes. It occurred to her that while her grandparents had not ever loved one another, they had both agreed to make a life together and to do the best they could. Bor had given Bestla her rooms beneath the palace and never once tried to keep her from her children or grandchildren. He had been thoughtless on more than one occasion, especially when it came to flirting with maidens, but he had never actually been unfaithful enough to take someone else into his bed. And he respected her enough to write to her sister personally, instead of leaving it to the palace ambassadors. 

“She died… she died saving children,” Anima said as a lump formed in her throat. “There was a portal that formed during the Convergence and some Dark Elf soldiers fell through. They would have killed over a hundred children if she hadn’t… if she hadn’t put herself between them, and thrown up ice walls… and… and… and she never hesitated. She just did it. They were so fast but she was faster. I wish she’d been stronger though.”

The tears fell freely down her cheeks as she spoke. They were joined by a single tear of Bor’s which trailed down through the lines under his eyes before breaking free and falling into his beard.

He wrote down what she said in a scratchy hand and looked back up.

“Thank you, Granddaughter, you may go,” he said, as softly as Anima had ever heard him.

****

Odin sat by the communicator with his hand hovering above it. He didn’t want to activate it but he had to.

With a hard sigh he pressed the button and sent the request for contact.

It was answered a few seconds later, and the face of his brother Vili appeared on the screen.

“Brother! You were victorious!” he said. “We didn’t have much trouble out here, a few portals here and there but we took care of it. What was that magic blast caused by? It made all our seidr instruments shake.”

Odin took another deep breath, more quickly this time, and steeled himself.

“Brother. There were casualties. We lost… Brother, Mother was killed in the attack.”

Vili’s face froze, and then began to fall. “What?” he asked. “How? She wasn’t on Svartaflheim, surely?”

“The portals, one of them opened up between the battlefield and the palace. She was hit, and…” Odin trailed off, what more was there to say? Instead he watched in silence as Vili’s face crumpled.

“She didn’t deserve that,” he said at last. “She deserved better!”

“Yes she did,” Odin agreed, already crying. “We’re taking her body to Jotunheim as she always wanted. We’re leaving in a day. Will you come?”

For a moment Odin thought he would refuse, but then he nodded sharply. “I will be there,” he said. “Are you planning to call Vé and tell him or do you think I should do it?”

“I will do it,” Odin said. “I wouldn’t put that on you. I will call Vanaheim in another two hours when it’s morning where he is.”

“Don’t wait, Brother, he will forgive you lost sleep but not a delay,” Vili said. “He won’t come to Jotunheim if Father is there,” he added.

“I know, but he should still be given the choice,” Odin replied. “We won’t leave for Jotunheim until you get here.”

Vili nodded. “I should have told her,” he said, his voice cracking. “I left it until after the battle but I should have told her before. Gutrune is pregnant. We’re having a boy.”

Odin smothered another sob and forced himself to speak. “Congratulations. She would have been so happy to hear that.”

Vili just shook his head. “Now she never will.”

“Her soul will know,” Odin said. “In the Great Spirit Hall of the Jotnir, she will know.”

****

Grundroth was reading a communication from Asgard with a look of pure terror. Queen Bestla had been killed in a recent conflict with the Dark Elves and now King Bor and his entire family would be laying her to rest on the glacier nearest her childhood stronghold.

And Nal was still missing, probably dead.

“Your Majesty!” cried Thrym, pointing a bandaged finger at the Cave from the Temple window. He and the other men Grundroth had sent down there had searched the Cave for hours until they almost died from exposure and exhaustion. Groupr had dragged Thrym out unconscious, so dedicated he was to finding the princess.

The captain of Nal’s retinue and Grundroth himself had almost bonded in the last day or so over the knowledge that Bor would almost certainly kill them both for letting her go in the first place. Now they both headed towards the window to see what Thrym was pointing at.

“What is it?” Grundroth asked, looking out.

It was Nal.

Grundroth turned and sprinted through the Temple chambers and out into the snow. He grabbed the Asgardian captain’s thick fur cape from his shoulders as he ran past, not stopping until he was at Nal’s side.

She was completely naked and her skin was covered in what looked like partially healed cold burns.

“You utter fool,” he said, wrapping the cape around her body before anyone else could come out and gawk. “You could have _died_. We thought you had! I had my best men searching the whole Cave for you!”

“Not the whole Cave,” Nal said softly. She looked up through squinting eyes at Grundroth’s face. “They didn’t check the crystal cavern, otherwise I would have seen them.”

“What?” Grundroth asked, scooping her up and striding back to the Temple where the rest of the men, Jotnir and Asgardian both, waited for them.

“The cavern with the crystal; the story is real, it’s down there,” Nal said.

Grundroth placed her on a fur-lined chair.

“Get some water, and a heat stone, and some more furs,” he commanded. “Get her some _clothes_.”

“What you did was foolish,” he repeated, turning back to Nal as the men fled to do his bidding. “But I’m glad to see you alive. Even the most stubborn of women don’t deserve to die in a cave like that. Once you are my wife I hope you will not try to be so foolish again.”

Nal was still blinking hard. “Jotunheim has gone from as dull of evening light to as bright as an Asgardian summer’s day,” she said. “Or maybe I’m just better at seeing things now. And you had better stop with this marriage talk, that’s the truly foolish notion here.”

“You made me a promise,” Grundroth said in a low voice. 

“And I kept it,” Nal answered. She held out her hand and Grundroth watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as a perfect wine glass formed out of ice, etched with delicate flowers all around the rim. “I am your heir now, yes? No more marriage talk; I am not interested.”

Grundroth looked from the glass to her face and back again. “How?” he asked weakly.

“Patience,” Nal said, “Although I did go all the way to the _end_ of the Cave; it turns out I wasn’t as clever as you.”

He looked at her in sudden fear at his secret being revealed, but she just smiled a small, satisfied smile. “I’m not interested in your throne, so I suppose you had better keep it. But know this, your Majesty, I have seen the crystal from which the ancient winters spring, and I know the true secret of the Cave. You remain king because I choose to let you, so don’t ever make me change my mind.”

The arrival of the men bearing clothes, furs and food broke their gaze, and Grundroth backed down. He turned his attention to the letter he’d been reading before Nal had arrived back.

“I’m afraid I have a sad duty, your Grace,” he said, eyeing her warily in case what he had to tell her sent her over the edge.

Nal turned to look at him and saw the letter in his hand and the Asgardian seal upon it.

“I already know,” she said, holding out her wineglass for it to be filled without breaking eye contact with him. “My Grandmother is dead.”


	75. Bestla's Last Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. The next one is a small epilogue/teaser for the next story, and the one after that is the notes.

Nal stood by the Bifrost landing site and waited in silence. King Grundroth, his men and her retinue stood around her, but they were all several steps back, as though afraid to cross the invisible barrier which held her apart from them.

The Bifrost activated, filling the areas with bright light. When it faded, her family stood there, surrounding a large coffin which held the body of Bestla. Across the coffin was draped the large fur coat Anima had always worn when visiting her grandmother. Nal reflected sadly that it would no longer be needed.

Bor only glanced at her before turning to bow in greeting at Grundroth. Odin stepped forwards and gave her a hug. Nal returned it, but her eyes were focussed elsewhere. Odin pulled back and held her by the arms. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Has the King been kind?”

“He has been very kind,” Nal said. “He delivered the news to me personally, and he has given me space to grieve.”

Odin nodded and blinked the tears out of his eyes as he looked over at King Grundroth.

Grundroth knelt on the snow, head bowed and one arm on his heart.

“Veerdin karr ang,” he said in the ancient language of the Jotun people. After a second the literal meaning arrived in Nal’s head. “I bow to your grief.” The intended meaning arrived a moment later. ‘Your grief is beyond my own.’ 

There was a sleigh nearby, brought by the first person Nal ever have truly thought an actual giant. He had introduced himself as Morgor, son of Farbauti, and he had come, he said, to help take Bestla to her final resting place.

Loki stepped out from behind the coffin as Daianya and Anima came over to their sister. Two bright red streaks had been painted down his cheeks, and he wore, what was for him, sombre clothes of mourning. He nodded at Morgor, who reached down and carefully lifted the coffin onto the sleigh. Loki helped fasten it down with straps, and then waited for Bestla’s family to join him.

“Are you alright?” Anima asked Nal quietly. “You’ve hardly said a thing to us since the Convergence.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Nal said. “I just had a lot to think about, and I wanted to think it for myself.”

One by one they climbed aboard the sleigh. Bor, Odin and Vili all sat at the front. Daianya, Nal, Anima, Vili’s wife Gutrune and Loki all sat around the coffin on benches in the back. Then Morgor picked up the long reins which extended out the front of the sleigh and began to pull them along. He built up to a jogging pace, which for a Jotun his size had them travelling at decent speed across the icy plains.

Daianya slumped against Anima’s shoulder after a while. She had been working endlessly since the end of the battle to find and clean the bodies of the dead. It wasn’t over either, General Solveig had given her leave to bury her family member, the same as anyone else, but when they returned she would be expected to go back to her duties. Anima just put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and turned to look out over the landscape as they moved.

“Hela isn’t here,” Nal commented after a while.

“Someone had to stay in Asgard,” Anima said. “She volunteered.”

Nal looked at the coffin for a long time. “Whatever,” she muttered.

It took five hours for the sleigh to reach the mountains where Bestla had been born. Morgor slowed down as he approached the glacier, coming to a stop and reaching a hand back to make sure the sleigh did not jolt.

There were people waiting for them, Nal noticed as she stood up; a lot of people. Thousands of people, all with red streaks down their cheeks.

There were giants like Morgor, all standing a respectful distance away and flanking a woman sixty feet tall. She had three Jotun men about Grundroth’s size sitting on her shoulders. One of them was talking in her ear while another gently stroked what he could reach of her hair.

Closer in there were Jotnir closer in size to Bestla, and in their centre was Broeng, Bestla’s sister, who stood tall and regal, with a hard look on her face. It softened when she saw Nal standing in the sleigh, and she gently bowed her head.

There were other women too. Women Bestla had known and been friends with, women she’d _stayed_ friends with despite never going home again.

The others all climbed out of the sleigh. Nal paused and rested her hand on the coffin. It was made of wood, which was all wrong.

A hand holding an open pot of red pigment appeared in her vision. Loki offered it to her with a kind expression. 

The other members of her family were crying, but Jotun rarely had tears.

“No thank you,” Nal said softly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out three red jewels which glittered in the light. “I made my own.”

The pot disappeared in the blink of an eye and Loki knelt before her, one hand on his heart. “Veerdin karr ang,” he said, looking up at her, his face filled with empathy and sorrow.

She nodded to him in acknowledgement and climbed down from the sleigh and onto the ice.

Morgor lifted the coffin free and placed it on the ground by the sleigh. Two men with more than just a passing resemblance to Bestla walked over to it and lifted the lid. Bor opened his mouth as if to protest, but shut it again and looked down. He didn’t know enough about Jotun funerary rites to say anything.

The men lifted Bestla’s body from the coffin and carried it respectfully onto the glacier. It was more than three kilometres wide and they walked slowly until they reached the centre, where Broeng was waiting. 

The royal family walked after them. They stepped carefully, but no matter where they placed their feet they found rough ice that let them grip without difficulty. As they walked Loki glanced sideways, first at Anima, then at Nal, but neither woman looked at him.

The two men set Bestla’s body down on a raised bed of ice and backed away respectfully. Broeng and Bor stared at one another across her body, neither moved for a moment, and then Bor looked down.

Broeng stepped forwards and placed her hand on the ice. A somewhat lumpy, slightly irregular image formed on the side, of a woman with an infant inside of her being hit by a blast of energy. She stepped back, and a man stepped up. He had Bestla’s eyes, and Nal strongly suspected that he was one of her brothers. He added an image of a woman holding a child. The next man added one of the child resting on the side while other children played. The images kept being added until at last there was one depicting a contract being signed, a marriage being made, and then it was Loki’s turn to step up.

He placed his hand on the ice and concentrated. Images of Bestla arriving in Asgard appeared: standing by her husband’s side while he held court, holding Odin in her arms, then Vili, the Vé. He showed her sitting by a pool and telling her sons stories, and of her greeting first Hela, then the three sisters. Then he stepped back and looked at Nal.

She had to do it. She was the only one of the family who could.

Nal stepped forwards and took over the image-making. Whereas the others had worked hard to make a recognisable image similar to that of ancient stone carvings, Nal’s ice-shaping was as sharp as a photograph. Bestla appeared, truly her with her features and her smile. She told her grandchildren stories and sat in gardens eating sandwiches. She shaped and ice cup and dropped two of them to show what strength could do. She fought the Dark Elves, throwing up walls of ice to protect the children, and then she died, the last image of her being thrown backwards from their blasts, ending what an Asgardian weapon had started before she was even born.

And on the far side of the ice where her family couldn’t see, but where Broeng had a perfect view, Nal created an image of Bestla and herself, lines running from one to the other, through, but not connected to Odin in the middle; a daughter from a son. Broeng looked up in surprise and shock at Nal’s face, searching for a sign that it was indeed true, but Nal was too busy to look up.

Nal concentrated harder, and from the sides of the ice images of snowflakes formed beneath everyone’s feet, each one distinctly different from the last. They formed themselves all the way out to the edges of the glacier, and Nal stood with her head bowed. Bestla had missed the ice and snow of her home all of her life, but she had given it up for peace. That fact should be known to all who came to the glacier, from now until it carried her to the sea.

Nal reached into her pocket and retrieved the three red tears of her grief. With a trembling hand she laid them gently on her grandmother’s body, over the heart. Only then did she look up.

Every single Jotun on the glacier and beyond was kneeling before her, even Broeng, who looked up at her with Nal’s sadness reflected in her own eyes. 

“Veerdin karr ang,” she said to Nal.

The other Jotnir all repeated the phrase, from the high voice of the smallest child to the deep rumble of Farbauti’s sons.

“Veerdin karr ang.”

I bow to your grief.

Nal gave them all a slow nod of acknowledgement, before turning away from Bestla. She walked back over the ice without looking back. The ceremony was over.

****

They held Anima’s God’s Feast two weeks later. The ale, wine and mead flowed freely and the survivors of the battle drank deeply in victory. They always did. Victory was the greatest of prizes in the Asgardian culture and they celebrated it every time. 

There were some sombre faces; people who had lost loved ones who were still feeling the fresh sting of grief, but even those men and women were encouraged to drink deeply and celebrate the life of the people they had lost.

“She is in Valhalla! And almost certainly drinking to you! So you should drink to her and drink hard!” roared one warrior to his friend, who had lost his wife in the battle. The friend raised his glass and downed his drink to the sound of cheers.

Anima sat at the high table and played with her pendant. It was her feast, technically, but all that meant to her was that she wasn’t allowed to leave. And she wanted to leave very badly because there was something she wanted to do.

“You know, Puppy, if you’re thinking of skipping out then you probably ought to think a little quieter,” Loki said in her ear.

“I didn’t realise my thoughts were so clearly on my face,” Anima said.

He sat down in the empty chair beside her. “You could always make yourself a nice copy to smile and drink and look like a goddess.”

Anima looked down at her rather plain, dark red dress. “I don’t feel like sparkling yet,” she said.

“Neither does anyone else, even ol’ Boring is looking subdued. Less so than everyone else, but then he’s a lot drunker,” Loki said.

“I just want to get away from here for a while,” Anima said. “This place has been a hive of activity for two straight weeks. The honoured dead were buried in the vault below the weapons, the rest were sent to the stars, Daianya has only just finished her duties retrieving them all, and there are still wounded in the healer’s wing. What I really want is a nice, peaceful place to stop and think. What I really want is to go to Midgard and find a nice quiet place there. I haven’t seen it in years and I miss it.”

“The feast will be over in a few more hours,” Loki said. “And then things will be quieter, more peaceful. Then you can go to Midgard as long as you like.”

“I can’t – ” Anima started, but then she stopped and looked at him. “I can, can’t I? I can just go. Teleporting across worlds is just like using the Bifrost, if you know the right numbers and can summon enough power, and I can do both now.”

“You’ve always been able to do both, Puppy, even without Yggdrasil at your back,” Loki said. “I’m so glad for you that you can see it for yourself now.”

****

Nal leaned against the wall and surveyed the crowd with a calculating look on her face. In her hand a goblet of ice held chilled wine, and her dress of light grey and silver flattered her blue skin and made it look even more alien.

“You seem different,” Hela said to her, walking over. “Ever since you came back from Jotunheim you look… colder.”

“Have you ever really looked at a crowd and thought to yourself ‘I hate nearly everyone in it?’” Nal asked her, gently stroking the pendant at her neck. The platinum flower with its diamond centre had acquired a friend. A single red Jotun tear hung like a droplet from beneath the flower, the fourth and last tear Nal had shed for her grandmother.

Hela smiled and took a sip of her own wine. “Frequently,” she said.

“It would be so easy to just… end them all,” Nal said.

Hela looked at her with a surprised smile. “You know, this is the first time in my life that I actually feel close to you,” she said.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Nal said, but there was no spite in her tone.

Hela smiled, “I overheard some of the older ones daring the younger ones to ask you to dance. They’re telling them that you will burn their fingers off if they step on your toes.”

“Maybe I will,” Nal said, and Hela’s grin widened.

She glanced up as Odin approached and gave him a quick bow. “Father,” she said and left him to talk to Nal.

“I haven’t had a chance these past few weeks to speak with you properly,” Odin said. “There’s been so much to do.”

“It’s alright,” Nal said.

“That’s a beautiful glass,” Odin commented, noticing it. “Did King Grundroth show you how to do it?”

“His assistance in some areas led me acquiring the skills, yes,” Nal said. 

“He’s withdrawn his request for your hand in marriage,” Odin said. “Father is displeased and will be asking you why very shortly.”

Nal’s face curled up into a slow smile. “Well, when he has the time to come and speak to me, I will be pleased to tell him that I am not going to be Grundroth’s betrothed because I am, in fact, his heir. I’m sure that will help ease the blow,” she said.

Odin’s mouth dropped open slightly before he managed to recover himself. “His heir?” he asked. “How?”

“I conquered the Cave of Kings,” Nal said. “That is the only requirement. I could challenge him for the throne now but that would require a fight, easier to just wait and let him die. He is an old man after all, older than King Bor, in fact.”

“You entered the Cave of Kings?” Odin repeated. “You, my daughter, a princess on a diplomatic mission, entered the extremely deadly Cave of Kings and conquered it?”

Nal looked up at him. “My other choice was to get married, are you really that surprised at me, Father?”

Odin sagged against the wall and sighed deeply. “Nothing any of you three do should surprise me at this point,” he said. “Grundroth has acknowledged this?”

“He has,” Nal said. “He had no choice, the law is clear. I survived the Cave and have the skills required of a king. I am his heir, at this moment, his only heir, although I imagine he’ll be sending a lot more men to try their luck in the near future. Perhaps I will end up with a rival?”

Odin just shook his head in disbelief. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “I’m proud of all of you.”

Nal hesitated for a moment, for the first time her mask of ice showed a crack and there was a hint of nervousness on her face. “Father?”

“Yes?”

“When I was down in the Cave… Father, given Anima is truly a goddess even though she is mortal, and no one ever thought that could happen, well, do you think, maybe… I could…?”

Odin looked back at her with almost hidden pity. “Anima is the first non-Asgardian or Aesir god to ever have existed,” he said. “Her birth, occurring in the centre of a great deal of magic _and_ as the last of the Midgardian sorcerers died, well, she’s an anomaly, Nal. You are Jotun, and no Jotun has ever been a god.”

“Loki is a god,’ Nal said.

“I know Loki claims to be a god, but firstly he’s Asgardian with a Jotun mother, you only have to look at him to see he’s not really Jotun, and possibly he’s not even a real god, he’s never actually called on Yggdrasil with witnesses so we only have his word for it. But you don’t need Yggdrasil to give you power. Look at you! You have done extraordinary things, for a Jotun.”

He probably didn’t mean to hurt her.

“I understand,” Nal said, taking a sip of wine. “Thank you.”

A moment ago she had wanted to tell him everything, about Hodr still being alive, about answering the call of the cold, about the scent of apple blossom and what it could all mean. But truthfully the person she _wanted_ to ask was gone, her body lying on a frozen glacier in the mountains of Jotunheim. Odin had never really learnt much about his Jotun heritage and would struggle to answer her questions anyway. Still, it would have been nice to share something with him, a mystery that the two of them could solve together as father and daughter.

Maybe she should take a leaf out of Loki’s book instead and stop caring what anyone else thought. What did it matter anyway? The only person who had to know what she had done – and what she was capable of – was her.

Four hours later when the feast finally ended and Nal went up to her room, she took out her carving tools and set to work on the right-hand side of the window frame where the most recent of her carvings lay. She sat there for an hour, carefully carving into the wood until she was finished.

A single snowflake, made of a hexagon branching out to six long arms, each sprouting a dozen branches of their own, now sat nestled among the flowers she had already carved. One snowflake for her grandmother, and for her heritage.

**** 

Anima stood in her room and closed her eyes. She let the magic rise up within her and wash over her, let the numbers run from start to finish, pushing them along with power from a well whose bottom she never should have feared.

When she opened her eyes she was standing in the forest clearing on Midgard. Niler’s old hut was still there, although the roof had collapsed and the small garden area had been overtaken by weeds. It was mid-afternoon, and the light of the sun felt warm on her face.

She breathed in deeply, smelling the grass and the sap from the trees.

The clearing was the quiet place she had longed for, to stop for a moment and take stock of what had happened. No one blamed her for freezing up and not saving her grandmother, but no matter how old she got she would always blame herself a little bit.

She walked over to the hut and rested her hand on the side with a sigh. It didn’t seem that long ago that there had been a fire in the stone circle outside no matter the time of day. Wool blankets and furs had hung over the branches nearby and the little garden had been well weeded and cared for.

Beneath the pressure of her hand the side of the hut began to move. Anima yelped in surprise as it collapsed inwards with a crash of wood.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she said out loud.

“I’m glad to hear it; I’d hate to think you were angry,” said a voice from behind her. She turned and smiled as Senan crossed the clearing, a bag slung over his shoulder. At thirty three there were already grey hairs scattered across his scalp, but on the other hand his beard had finally, gloriously, grown in to suit his face.

“What are you doing here?” Anima asked.

“I come here now and again when I want people to stop askin’ me for things,” he said. “I never realised until I was one that bein’ a king was a lot of hard work.”

“And they just let you go?” Anima asked.

He grinned at her. “I’m the man who talks to the Fairy Princess,” he said. “They seem to think wanderin’ off to the forest for a bit of alone time is a sacred rite. I haven’t the heart to tell them all I do is make a fire and eat potatoes.”

He gestured past her to the garden. Anima looked at it in puzzlement. To her non-gardener eyes it still looked full of weeds, but Senan reached past her and pulled out a plant, and there it was just below the surface, a nice big potato.

“So did you steal the blue cube, the tesseract, again, did you?” he asked her, pulling out another one for her and unpacking his bag by the stone circle.

“No,” Anima said. “I… well, a lot of things happened, and now I don’t need it anymore.”

He looked up at her. “You’ve got what my sister likes to call ‘unfallin’ tears in your eyes’,” he said. “Were the things that happened bad?”

Anima sat down by his side and helped him lay the fire. “Most of it was bad, some of it was terrifying, a little bit of it was good,” she said. “I think I found out why I felt as though I couldn’t leave Asgard.”

“Oh?” he asked.

So she told him. As they sat and ate she told him about the battle, and the magic, and how it felt to call on Yggdrasil and have it respond. She told him as the daylight faded and stars came out, covering the sky with their brilliance.

“Sounds to me like it made you specially,” Senan said when she was done. “And if I may be so bold, I think it did a fine job of it too.”

“If I’d gone with you I wouldn’t have been where I needed to be to save Asgard,” Anima said. “But I still feel torn about my choice.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help, me still being around here and there,” Senan said. They were close enough to kiss, if they wanted to.

“How are the children?” Anima said, turning away.

“They’re fine, Sean is handy with a sword already, and Imma is the image of her mother,” he said, grabbing a stick and poking the fire.

Anima looked at her hands. She wanted to tell him the last of it, that in the moment she thought she would die he was the one she thought of, but it would be cruel. Even her being here with him now was cruel.

“Thank you for listening to me,” she said instead. “I feel better now that I’ve been able to think.”

“It’s nice for me to just be able to listen,” Senan said. “They all want to hear my thoughts on things all day.”

He glanced up. “So when does the next Convergence come around?” he asked.

“Not for another five thousand years,” Anima said.

He smiled. “So when I look up at night I’ll be lookin’ at a peaceful sky?”

“Here’s hoping,” Anima said.

“Which one is Asgard?” he asked.

Anima looked up and pointed. “It’s actually in that fuzzy bit right there, there’re about eighty stars out there in that spot, far away from each other but their light all hits Midgard together.”

“So if I look at that spot, that’s where you’ll be,” Senan said. “I’ll remember that, Ani Darlin’.”

He turned to look at her; now they were an inch apart. “I should go,” Anima said. “Before we do something we both regret.”

“Until another life,” Senan said, and their lips brushed as they both leaned inwards at the same time.

There was a feeling of softness in the air, and Senan opened his eyes to find himself alone.

“Still not a frog,” he said to himself. “She must still love me.”

****

Laufey, Son of Morag, was feeling incredibly hard done by. He had been sitting in the dungeon cell ever since coming back for the Cave of Kings empty handed. He only found out that Nal had lived, and apparently become King Grundroth heir, from the whispered gossip of the guards.

He waited until once more he was alone, and then returned to what he’d been doing. The cells were made of stone as ice would have been ridiculous for a race who could shape it at will. But there were joins between the stones, and with enough effort and force of will, ice could be forced into those joints and… CRACK.

The stone shifted. Laufey shoved it as hard as he could and wriggled through to the other side. It was some kind of corridor. He jogged down the length, through several empty store rooms, and out into the fresh air. No one stopped him, although the search parties would begin very soon. He ran at a full sprint to the one place where no one would want to follow him.

The Cave of Kings was beginning to feel like a second home, he thought wryly as he dashed through the entrance and down into the depths. He had to go deep enough that they wouldn’t easily follow, but not so deep that he died. It would take them a while to figure out that he’d gone in there, so hopefully he would be able to adjust enough to go deeper, deep enough to find the side cavern he’d sheltered in once before.

He’d wait there for a while, long enough for them to think he was dead, and then he’d sneak back up and away over the snow. He’s try his luck at the strongholds in the far south, even if no woman wanted to keep him he’d still get a few meals and a night’s shelter, and then he’d strike out on his own.

And one day, when the time was right, he would return and make Grundroth regret ever having locked him up in the first place.


	76. Epilogue

On an asteroid floating in the middle of a large belt, Thanos watched in suspicion as the little ship came to land.

He waited as the hatchway opened and the ramp descended before making his way towards the vessel.

“I think you may be lost,” he said in a voice that did not promise help for the stranded traveller.

“I don’t think I am,” was the reply from within, “You are Thanos the Titan, only escapee of the blockade that surrounds your home world.”

Thanos reached slowly for his blaster. His escape was not widely known and he wanted it to remain that way.

“Relax, great warrior of Titan,” the voice said, “I have brought you a gift.”

“And what is that?” Thanos asked, still peering into the gloom of the ship.

The person inside stepped forwards into the doorway and held out a gauntlet of gleaming gold, “My only condition is that you reduce Asgard to rubble and dust,” Brokkr said, holding it out in front of him.

Thanos took the gauntlet with a gentle hand, amazement showing clearly on his face, “Where did you get this?” he asked.

“From my brother’s vault,” Brokkr said, “I replaced it with a fake while he was distracted by the Convergence, the fake looks the same on the outside but it lacks any of the mechanisms required to channel what you wish. He has given up on the project now that it is finished and he will never look at the fake closely enough to see the difference.”

“You are certain?” Thanos asked.

“I am,” Brokkr said, “I know you want revenge, Lord Thanos, well so do I.”

Thanos slipped the gauntlet onto his right hand and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is notes.


	77. NOTES

First off, thank you to everyone who read this story, but a special thank you to anyone who left me a comment on any of the chapters. They say ‘write for yourself’ and I absolutely do, in that this story and the events within it are exactly what I wanted to write. But I don’t _post_ stories for me. I already have them living in my head ready to play on repeat any time I like. I post them to see if anyone else would like to read them too. When I get a comment from someone telling me they liked it or can’t wait to read the next part it makes me happier than when I write it out in the first place, and it absolutely keeps me going all the way to the end. I know not everyone feels comfortable leaving comments and that’s fine, I don’t think anyone should make themselves feel uncomfortable on my account, but I still want to acknowledge those who do reach out to me. It is very much appreciated. 

None of the following information is strictly necessary for you to know so if you want to skip it then go right ahead. I will be taking about a three week break and then will start posting the first chapter of the next story in this series.

About this series. I first imagined the characters of Daianya and Nal all the way back in 2011 after watching the first Thor film. At the time, Daianya and Nal showed up in my head as a kind of female version of Thor and Loki, sisters who had lived and died before either of the two gods we know and love were born. I wasn’t sure what they were doing there, and so I let them be until 2013, when I watched Thor: The Dark World for the first time. That image of the Bifrost taking the Aether immediately twisted in my head to deliver Daianya, Nal and a third sister, who I later named Anima, directly in front of the Aether to prevent Malekith from using it.

Obviously I did not end up using that scene, but that was the first time all three of them existed in the one place. Since then the story of who they were, why they vanished, and the impact they had on Asgard’s history slowly developed in my mind. I used elements of this story to develop settings for other ones I wrote, and even admitted that in the comments section somewhere in One Hundred Steps Back.

Loki of Utgard on the other hand showed up at the same time as Hela after I watched Thor: Ragnarok. Hela being canonically forgotten by Asgard despite being younger than Odin (and therefore should have been remembered by at least some of the population aged between her and Odin) was the missing piece in the saga now sitting comfortably in my head. Loki’s arrival meant that my characters had someone chaotic to act as a foil to Odin’s steadiness, but also as a way to show Odin’s weaknesses in better light. Odin refuses to give up on his family even when they have done things that are unforgivable. His only concession appears to be locking them away (Loki in Thor 2, Hela in Thor 3). This was the last piece of what felt like an existing puzzle I was slowly putting together, rather than creating from scratch.

I waited until after Endgame before writing this because I wanted to see where Thor and Loki ended up, and whether further revelations regarding Asgard’s history would be revealed that I would need to weave in. With Thor 4 and the Loki TV show on their way, this story may end up on the wrong side of MCU canon, but for now it all still fits in provided that you accept that Odin is lying to cover up the missing people every time he tells Thor and Loki about the history of the realm. 

The ideas behind the nature of gods and what it truly means was inspired by Ragnarok. I always wondered how Thor got his power and why it was so specifically weather-based. The throwaway line in Thor 1 about them visiting Earth and being ‘thought of as a god’ seemed weird because Thor very obviously had powers that no other Asgardian had. This story is also an attempt to rectify those two seemingly opposing facts.

And finally, GoofyGoldenGirl asked me if she could put together a playlist for this fic, which is here:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7IdTRKm312rxQU1ldvGRoU?si=KD1X2kmWT8Ou0NQEFhFSGQ

She also asked me if I had any suggestions to make. The truth is I do use music to help me get into the right kind of mood for different chapters, but I never thought anyone would be interested in knowing what those songs were. Just in case anyone out there _does_ want to know what plays on repeat in the back of my mind, they are listed below. Some of them are very relevant, some are only relevant in the verses or the chorus, and others are more about the general mood. Whatever, it works for me.

That’s it from me; I’ll get back to writing now. Thank you so much to everyone for reading this story. It means more to me than all my previous works simply because of how long it lived and grew in my head up until now. I know it’s not got MCU Loki in it, and it hasn’t got a lot of wild, unrealistic-except-they-are-aliens-so-we-all-go-with-it smut, but I want you to know that I appreciate every last one of you for coming along with me simply to read this story.

Songlist:  
Anima: Young and innocent: Gimme Chocolate! – Babymetal  
Loki: Introduction to the whole damn character/story: The Greatest Show – Panic! At The Disco  
Hela: Introduction: Confident – Demi Lovado  
Odin: Thinking about Yrsa: Wish You Were Here – Delta Goodrem  
Daianya: Hearing she is to join the Valkyrie: Go the Distance – Hercules (movie version)  
Loki: Arriving after having birthed Sleipnir: I Make Hamburgers – The Whitlams  
Nal: Wanting to be accepted: Winterlight – Sarah Brightman  
Hela: Chasing Thanos: Rehab – Amy Winehouse  
Daianya: Being put in with the junior class: Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You) – Kelly Clarkson  
Anima: Realising she will die and be forgotten by almost everyone: The Speed of Life – Delta Goodrem  
Odin: Reflecting on his children: Landslide – Fleetward Mac  
Anima: Meeting Senan: Every Little Thing She Does is Magic – The Police  
Anima: Knowing Senan: Rhiannon – Fleetward Mac  
Loki: Hela’s first time trying to kill Loki: Til Death - Wynter Gordon  
Hela: Being the Executioner: Pumped Up Kicks – Foster The People  
Daianya: Beating Tyr and getting stronger: The Climb – Miley Cyrus  
Odin: Spending time with each of his children: Father and Daughter – Paul Simon  
Loki: Not sharing his life code: Secrets – P!nk  
Odin: Meeting all of the eligible women in Vanaheim: You Can’t Hurry Love – Phil Collins  
Loki: Putting the tesseract back: The Pink Panther Theme Song  
Anima: Standing up to Bor about the mortals: Brave – Sarah Bareilles  
Odin: Thinking about Anima breaking the rules and standing up to Bor: Never Grow Up – Taylor Swift  
Hela: Hela and Thanos fight/reveal she helped him try to destroy Asgard: Dirty Little Secret – The All-American Rejects  
Anima missing Senan: Baby – Clean Bandit feat. Marina and Luis Fonsi  
Odin: Reflecting on Nal being sent to visit Jotunheim: Wild World – Cat Stevens  
Nal: In the cave with Hoddr: Snow White Queen – Evanescence  
Hela: Convergence: I’m So Excited – The Pointer Sisters  
Anima: Breaking down at the death of Bestla: Only Human – Delta Goodrem  
Nal & Anima: Talking about fighting when you aren’t a warrior at heart: Loyal Brave True – Christina Aguilera  
Anima: Calling on Yggdrasil: Show Yourself – Frozen II Soundtrack  
Nal: Talking to Grundroth about never being his queen/accepting that she is Jotun: Salt – Ava Max  
Nal: Saying goodbye to Bestla: The Garden – Jimmy Scott  
Odin: Being proud of his children and accepting that they are going to do their own thing: Run – P!nk  
Nal and Hela bonding: So Am I – Ava Max  
End Credits? I dunno: Kings & Queens – Ava Max


End file.
